My wrists have fallen beside me,
as I lay there with the rusty knife in my hand,
the blood that left me has never once stained the truth,
though the blood given, has deceived many before me,
That, I can never help,
nor would it be respectable to try,
but the one thing that will do,
is never let my blood become that which kills,
letting go of every drop will not drown me in my sins,
but it will submerge the tribulations of my relationships,
and birth me into a new life,
devoid of failed man and betraying halves.
 
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