My bones are becoming brittle,
This Illness that is me,
has sallowed my face,
Death Picks me up,
to only put me in the ground,
recede back into This forsaken body,
My knavery locked Me within all I wasn't,
for so long I have become chary of the risk I face,
I bathe in that immortal blood,
and feast upon many others,
slaughter the innocent souls,
until your unquenchable Thirst is sated,
Forever damned within this crimson body,
My life has already been taken.
You're blessed, dude. Give me some of your luck, forget the devil, I'll sell you my soul.
Crimson, this is truly breathtaking. This poem dictakes how many people feel damned. At times, I know I do. But darling, you are not damned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such despair... It made me feel sad, your inner turmoil. Acceptance must first come from within. And you end on a vibrating note. The saddest note a tjello can bring...