I sit apart from everyone else,
I open not just the eyes that drip Crimson,
but also my Veins, that flow rivers of blood,
My Blood perhaps shall reach you,
but never in time for Crimson to be saved.
I lie in the dark,
In a puddle of my very own Crimson Love,
Trying to return to its hollow vessel,
The return is shortlived,
for emptiness, pushes crimson through each scar,
upon my body self inflicted or not,
This hollow vessal shall remain drained of all loveing blood.
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