Untitled

Blood-
Lingering
Peering though
trickling down my veins
Steering itself to the core.
While filling my hands
full of thick red water
slowly sliding its way down
but forever there
never to be gone.
Oh, the Blood.
Wash out!
Wash out, you pestering spot!
Quickly, you must go away, for no more blood
Shall prove of your-
Or my sins, for I will not
Stand to fall.
I must scrub,
Till no more blood is here
For what a sin to have
Shown before all
This will just
Not do.

For my mind-
Why… why can’t it stop?
It has equivocated itself
Leaving me beyond repair
In this state of disorder
And moral corruption.
For blood is my guilt
And my constant reminder
Of the sickness within
When ambition
Took over.


Sleep…
Oh, how I miss thy comfort
Of simple pleasures
Without the unbearable amount
Of guilt
which never seems to cease and desist.
Will you yet come again?
And save me from my delusional frame
Before all that is left is
False apparitions of blood
And blame.

Ah, my partner of greatness
More or less of darkness
Thy dagger will forever be tarnished
Of the bloody crime
For the end of one’s life
Forever gone.
Oh, the monster
Thy has become
Slithering down into the heap of the fire
Trapped in the serpent figure thou hast embodied
Only waiting to be burned
At the stake

Sleep of deathless dreams
by hollow beings consumed of those wicked deeds
from thy pure need.
Forever to be haunted by this act
I cannot hide anymore
For that which keeps me sane
Is never there,
Since nothing is left to do.
All has failed and soon they shall know.
Please, just take away the blood
And cloak me in the much needed warmth
Of guiltless sleep.

Please,
Forgive me.