Drink and Dream
Her bloody hands
touch black-ink tears,
and deepen the wounds
that were caused through the years.
Her fear's gone deeper,
and she's lost the keeper;
without her secrets,
shall the demons now seek her?
Familiar with their hatred,
she knows their rage,
and she battles the eternal,
unendurable pain,
begging for the sweet kiss
of but one drop of rain.
Her hands are touched with red,
and still, the black blood bleeds.
Engraving wounds that forever scar and hurt,
to kill, it is within the demons' Need.
Her tears stream of her blood,
of black blood, of red blood.
Hear you not the silent scream,
nor see you the shadowed face beneath her hood?
Her veil once covered her, comforting her,
but for it, she could not see;
something that should've been protecting her
was instead killing her,
and now she is bound as the Nothing . . .
And the demons
kneel
to drink
and dream.
1.20.06