I'm The Holy One.

Have you ever felt the pang of love?
The touch of blood, on your fingertips?
And the sound of those voices,
They don't flutter like the heart,
They crip on tight and they keep their crasp.
Watch them linger, staring down at you,
Through that void that weeps,
They eat the walls of me.
Causing the wound inside my heart,
To tear, rip at the shreds and fall to bits.
A hole, unfix able.

Dread, I dread you.
Like the hole in a tree trunk.
My heart wouldn't be complete without it.
But some days, it weeps oh so much.
And on those days.
I wonder how much I can take.
This bleeding inside me, can it end?
Every blow I take to the head,
I crave you, the edges of a fresh wound.
The dripping blood, my heart rate off the hook.
My heart, bruised and black.
Filled with nothing but grey darkness.
And one black hole, leaking out the rubies...
The rubies of my past.