So clearly, I can see the veins,
That torture his pure being.
The dirty blood that runs within,
Will never be appealing.
 
The pale white skin, that covers him,
Is frightfully transparent.
The cold blue heart, that lies within,
Is silently apparent.
 
His eyes, they’re staring,
Burning in.
That unmistakeable,
Emmerald green.
 
Whispering, I ask him,
Will I ever be forgiven?
He keeps looking, straight and deadly,
Answer’s never given.
 
After hours, his trembling hand,
Touches mine and forcefully,
Holds it tight as if to keep it,
There in place, so hopefully.
 
This scares me,
Oh, his hand’s so cold.
It’s punishing,
His awful hold.
 
I keep my fear in,
As I gaze into his eyes
As long as I’m with him,
I won’t care what dies.

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