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Friday, January 11, 2013

Crimson Stream

A stream of crimson runs down my arm
Seeping from the gaping wound
I can feel my life slowly drain away
My soul finally being set free

The pulsing of my heart quickly fades away
As the crimson stream stops flowing
As I lie there, cold as the dead
The mischief in my eyes stops glowing

I look down at myself from up above
My hands and wrists coated in blood
The water from the bath overflows
Running over the floor in a red flood

Crimson is the colour of my blood
Hurt is the note I left behind
I watch my loved ones break down and cry
Wish it was in them that I confided

I'm not here in body
But in spirit I still walk the streets
I'm lost in a world between life and death
A world where ghosts wear bed sheets

Even in my spirit form
I can still dream
Of a world where I'm still alive
Not dead because of a crimson stream

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