I can’t wash the blood from my hands,
The basin is stained with red that expands,
The mirror reflects a perfect barbarian,
As I desperately scrub off layers of skin.
The stars in the sky oddly cease to shine,
I gather up all of the lies that are mine,
Sewn into my mouth one last time,
To be spewed at someone down the line.
My feet refuse to step anew,
And the streetlights cast a yellow hue,
My mind is burning a hole right through,
To ease the pressure I’ve turned into.