Flaws

Binds of an inked pathway,
Sorrow is depressions prey,
Engrouped with shredded woes,
Torn from the wrist and within,
This wound bleeds mortal black blood.

Sworded and pierced through the core,
This globe is built around contretemps,
Wistful beings befall all misery,
Visions of a lost life from the fallen,
Engulfed equaled the scorn with debilities.