Crimson eyes awaken,
as the smell of blood arouses,
I lie in turmoil wondering what has been,
yet I already know.....
I sit on the edge of my bed,
yet it feels like reality,
I know this must be a dream,
yet this one suits me pleasantly,
Masochistic, violence of the highest degree,
Self mutilation... Crimson is all I see,
A mirrored reflection, stares at me,
I smile..... one sadistic smirk,
the bloody love of Crimson's work.
A razor in hand, My only friend,
Cry with me..
my blood longs to weep,
Just leave me, I know it's wanted,
Yet stay and I'll release you everyday...
Fall upon wrist, love me my blade,
Kiss the very skin you plan to desecrate,
Seduce me to bloodshed.....
Disturbed thoughts play in my head.
Seduction of what exactly?
The insanity of a mind past such fantasy?
Speaking to objects as if they know me,
Perhaps I'm Insane,
yet I know my blade loves me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem