If I bleed through your bed, my love, would you notice?

Crimson has boiled, oh, it's spoiled.

I slice the blade through my skin, darling dearest, do you know this?

Ready to crash, burn and ignite, the plain's been oiled.

If I were to set this world ablaze, would I accomplish justice?

Prepared to leap into death's embrace, my hair's perfectly coiled.


© Alexandrina Vicorii