Don't Go Gentle Into That Good Night

I looked down at my hands, so pale they almost matched the bright white of my shirt, which was slowly being removed, and replaced by a crimson stain that seemed to envelope my body like a jewel toned poison that was all at once beautiful and terrifying. Steadily it felt as if it seeped into my skin and stole my drive, my will to live. Branching out from the left side of my chest it ran down my hand like a slithering cobra, full of a sly form of mystery. As if it could either end me, or fill me with power with only a glint of its ruby red skin.