The blood flows down my chest fresh
From the cuts i have placed above my heart
As i look in the mirror i finally see truth
The reflection does not lie
The blood is finally real

Scars without finally match the scars within
And the muse beckons me gently

Rage pounds my head
Pain swells my heart
i bleed and feel the sweet pain
As a pagan i paint myself with life
The blood is finally real

i realise the despair of life
And the muse beckons me gently

To lie down in the tub
To bathe in warm warm blood
To watch it flow from me
To feel the sweet silence take me
To hasten the inevitable

i feel the hopelessness of life
And the muse beckons me gently

I recognise her

And I turn away

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