A slice as I draw
the first flavor of blood
in a horrid mistake.

I remember the pain so
well when it beads like
a rare wine.

A mistake I have made,
but we all act in haste.
I see the rust flavored
iron drip red with my
mistake.

The horror as I stare
with misguided hope.
Nobody will remember me
when I'm gone.

To late they will say
when the weakness fills
my mind.

I'm gone and done like
a piece of meat I am
beyond savoring.
Today it ends with misery.

No hope or any redemption.
Blood is already leaking out,
and I'm done.

06/05/2005

Posted on 06/05/2005
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin