I have nothing to offer up
but myself
and it seems
I am no worthy sacrifice;
the gods demand
virginal blood,
and mine simply won't do.
Never mind that it's there,
regardless,
spilled out on those
cold stone stairs to heaven,
accepted or no--
and it's all going to waste,
a pointless offering.
No sins are absolved,
no pain assuaged;
it's just one more dark stain,
one of countless testaments
to cruelty and
human worthlessness.
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