My life a memory,
From which I can’t escape-
A hell that burns eternal,
Though the flame is hidden…
Smoldering like coals,
Hidden beneath the sand,
Melting it into lovely black glass,
That hides all reflections of me,
So there is nothing for you to see…

My life’s blood,
Trickles down my wrists,
And forms strange ink blots,
For those who came to see,
Who this stranger is,
Sitting in the chair,
Facing the window,
With the glorious view-

They circle the room,
Looking down,
Seeing shadows on the ground,
Trying to read meaning,
Into the red smears-
I smile as it becomes apparent,
They don’t know it’s me…

I watch with great sadness,
As a puddle forms,
And wonder if soon those
Who come to claim my bones,
Will track my blood through the rooms,
Leaving bits of me behind,
Or taking me along,
As they walk out the door-
And the puddle of blood,
Stops growing on the floor…