twenty three

A bloody cross is left behind where he cut you

The wound burns with fire, a hate from within

Slowly the blood drip over the floor

The piece of glass still stuck in your arm

Sadistic ritual playing over and over

You seem to cry blood

With fear in your eyes

A sadistic ritual playing over and over

He never stops and looks at the damage

You have only the cross as evidence

Of this crime of hate

The blood slowly dripping from the cross he left behind

You cry the last tear

Of blood

Reviews

[Victoria PoetryBunny]

It feels like a lot of depth in this one... nice one.