Curse

My hands are bleeding,
A hole in my palm,
The pain’s too much; it’s impeding,
My soul’s slowly receding.

Kneeling on the grown,
Head in my hands,
A crown tumbles down.

Of thorns and vines entwined,
A hex set on my mind,
A symbol of my worth,
From death ‘til my birth,
I live this curse.

Upon the hill top,
A figure in the wind,
About a crimson cross,
I see myself slowly drop.

From the nails and bounds,
Around my hands,
I watch myself fall down.

To a ground I can’t feel,
Where I’m not sure what is real,
Living lost its appeal,
And my death, so ideal,
Before my spirit I kneel.

Watching my end,
I know the truth,
I can’t pretend,
I had more use,
I lived to linger on your thoughts,
Corrupting what you want.

I’m a curse,
I’ve made it worse,
A rebel and a terse,
A diverse,
Of reverse.

On display,
For the world to dismay,
At everything, that I ever say,
I betray,
This soiree.

Of thorns and vines entwined,
A hex set on my mind,
A symbol of my worth,
From death ‘til my birth,
I live this curse.