I have a rhyme for you
but you won't hear it...

A gaping wound, torrent of blood
spilling out the purest regret...

Some call him a sinner,
some call him a saint...

Once, we accepted what we did not need...
it was more about the giver than the gift...

(I couldn't think of a title duh)
The frail essence of sanity touches my veins...

The rocks at the bottom break into my back
it's been so long since I've felt...

Beautiful lilies break at the touch.
Frozen over by ice and wind...

Tears cover my heart
tomorrow won't be a new start...

Promise
we'll meet again...

There is some kind of hidden grace
that hides behind the face of depression...

Kill me again
softer this time...

Poison in the wine
fresh blood on hands...