Bleed.

The blare.
The beeps.
The sobs.
The screams.
I heard it all.
Maybe this was hell
Tormenting me, of what could have been,
But slipped through the gaps between my fingers.
Through bushes down the valley.
Blood of my so called savior,
Trickling into my veins,
Three hail Marys, sins washed in me.
He couldn't have known,
That innocent slave to the overbearing society.
He couldn't have known, could he?
He stole my chance and gave me another.
His insufferable gasps, his failing heart, his bleeding chest.
He thought he saved me, didn't he?
The fool.
Bleed.
For in your blood, I found new purpose.
In your blood, I quenched my eternal thirst.