In a deep crimson light,
I feel the deep crimson blood rush,
As a feeling of discomfort has risen over me,
Excessive amounts of dread fill me,
In this bathtub I'm laying,
The water is full to the edge,
Sloppily sloshing over,
Like my thoughts.
The water is a warm welcome,
But it's so hot,
Scorching my skin but I do not move,
I sit in this tub.
It's porcelain,
And the crimson blood stains it,
Will they notice,
I wonder.
Or am I only seeing it,
In my head,
My eyes playing these tricks?
My hair is glowing,
Flowing down my back,
The tips just barley dabbling at the top of the water,
My hair is tangled,
It is a mess.
As my mind is full of extracurricular activity,
It's full of abstract thoughts,
That make no sense,
Like a messy painting,
Deep content feels just out of reach,
I feel myself sliding against the porcelain,
Under the water,
My hair is emerged,
It drips wet,
Dripping down my skin,
Everywhere it turns red.
Deep crimson red.
And I feel the scorching heat,
All over my body.
In this tub,
I have fallen asleep.
In this porcelain tub I have disappeared into the deep crimson blood,
Becoming apart of what I once was.
