Poetic Whispers

History repeats

I remember learning once

That people used to believe

Using leeches

To drain out their blood

Would cleanse them of a disease

This occurred to me

Watching crimson tears

Slip down delicate porcelain wrists

Wondering what disease I felt the need to purge myself of

As silly as those ancient notions seem

Perhaps this is not different from what many do

Bleeding out

To release the mental demons in our souls

Trying to cleanse my mind

From all that I fear

History repeats itself

As new, shiny coffins

Filled with old

Faded souls

Invade the hollowed grounds surrounding us

I remember the leech theory which we sneer at now

And stare at the sharp temptations calling me

These are my leeches

Evidence shows that these people

Were never able to bleed the disease away

But try they did

And I'll damned try my hardest.

But

Do you know

That I learned these people

Almost always bled to death

And so

Trying to take matters into their own hands

Was more harmful that the disease itself

~A/N: pretty iffy on this poem, but hope you like it anyway~