Woke up with troubled thoughts
with the scent of wounds and burned cuts.
Presence of death like it was taking notes,
on the best way to slit my throat.
Had a painful sleep, my breath disposed fear
And though I had no dreams, my eyes let out tears
I cried red water, eyes rusted
For I never cried as the years got rugged.
Then it touched me; cold icy hands
Looked me in the eyes and asked for a dance.
Shame and pride
My sins so white
I was to be death's beloved bride.
The horror tasted sweet,
the darkness a work of art,
No more words to say as death could do us no part.