D I V I N I T Y

To decay

I've been clawing at my chest
And I can't tell if the blood on my hands
Is red or black
(Or maybe gold?)

Despite all the digging
I can never seem to get the bad feeling out
I've been saying for years that my lungs are rotting
And I think I am starting to believe it

(This is a poem from one of my other books but I think it fits this one better)