Blood. Blood. Blood.

  Runs its course through our veins,

  Trickles down our slit wrists.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Blood. Blood. Blood.

  The epitome of life,

  Death,

  Arousal.

  Thieves coat their hands in lambs blood,

  Hiding their scent from the huntsman.

  Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  Everything’s wrong.

  I want to start over.