I can't live life,
When death beckons,
me with such mouth-watering temptations,
I want to feed on the blood of the unholy,
I want to see the pain,
that's not just my own.
Death empathizes not,
instead Crushes my bones,
Dusty remnants of me,
spread with the wind,
my words faint,
but there still on the end of this pen,
Flowing freely,
even when the Crimson hand that once held it,
is no longer worthy.
'I cannot live happy,
If I Cannot Die the same.'
I cannot find reasons within sorrow,
Nor can I through the pain,
I just need your gentle hand,
To lunge your words but centimeters deeper,
within this crimson frame.
The most meaningful kill,
because of the hands,
and such love drenched steel,
We embrace for one moment,
I wished to be eternity,
then slowly I fell away,
and faded into the name,
you cannot think of,
let alone whisper when you think of pain.
Crimson Love
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pain-692/
