Dripped

Cold sweat dripped down to my lips. Salty as the sea that carried with it an ominous suggestion of death. My mind enforced it and this heart of mine stopped, frozen in place and stoic in vengeance. Fingers turned blue and nose grew clammy, I was dying and I  knew. The doctors said there was nothing wrong but I saw through it all for I had lived with the guilt of murder and worries of a traitor. I had done wrong, but why do I deserve such sickness? One of a deathly longing… Losing the hope I craved my last breath was taken at 3. Clocks stopped and my all was engulfed by a dreary imposter.