A Bit Of Light Crimson Poem by Christoph Praus

A light scarce upon the balcony,
My eyes grow cold and bright,
And even in the hunted night,
That pool of red reigned in my sight,
My soul grew heavy, long and tight,
Following that river's course,
Yet ever onward, worse and worse,
Beetled, silent laying there,
Corpsewyrms dancing in your hair,
Your shining eyes in judgement stare,
At me, and sealed within my grip,
A sharp reflection crimson drips.