I write this story in grey
in the hope that one day
the words will fade away,
unlikely though, they will stay.
Cuz, written in blood instead of ink
the words are born in a blink,
while I give them life as I think
and disappear while I sink.
Drained of all the blood inside
I wander off to hide,
in desperate need of a guide
to take me to the other side.
How could I’ve been so blind?
Thinking that our blood would bind?
Should I be ready to leave it all behind?
Start over as another kind?
Hoping that no one would mind.
Questions with no answers still remain,
while my words leave me with pain
as their blood leaves a stain,
Not cleansable with my rain.