The blood seeps and stains my sleeves,
The dying nectar has no bounds,
From my wrists, it slowly leaves,
As my aching head pounds.
The tears swell up until my throat screams,
But I cannot let out a sound,
For then, they’ll know I’m ripped at the seams,
My bandages tightly wound.
It won’t stop bleeding,
I’ve cut to deep,
I’m on the floor kneeling,
I silently weep.
I’m dying,
It’s time for that final bow,
I’ve stopped crying,
I’m ready now.
