Death is Beauty

Claws, ripping, tearing, at my heart.
Blood falls to the ground in silence, it all comes to an end, only sparrows sing.
I'm left alone, my heart, lays beside me, withering and fading before my eyes.
My pupal drips like the blood on the window, I stare out.
Rain covers watered down tears.

Crows darken the sky, killing the singing birds that bring me to rest.
Veins move their self into knots, stopping the blood flow to my open chest.
Wandering thoughts, wonder if it will help?
For no wind has come to bring white feathers to soak the redness from my chest, and turn into blood falling upon my heart.

Do I force myself to die or do I wait longer till...
Longer till, my blood shot eye separates?
Innocence is now spilled, surrounding me.
I hate these dreams that paint vivid pictures before my eyes, for they bring memories so beautiful.
I cry blood, there is no more tears to weep, in my eyes, any more.

The claws that tore my heart from me, takes form of what could never be real, and rapes what purity is left of me.
While whispers speak false pleasure to my ears, nerves seem to feel as if razor blades are being shoved into my ears.
The moon looks, so dim, I sadden with no thought of happiness.
Darkness seeps into my blood, the crow and his murder, their eyes widen with a piercing glare, my knotted veins drowning my soul.
What rapes me turns to silhouettes hovering over me.
Every part of my body tenses my lungs begging for air.
And then, in a moment, my eyes open searching to find where I am.