Blood. Blood. Blood.


    Runs its course through our veins,


    Trickles down our slit wrists.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Blood. Blood. Blood.


    The epitome of life,


    Death,


    Arousal.


    Thieves coat their hands in lambs blood,


    Hiding their scent from the huntsman.


    Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.


    Everything’s wrong.


    I want to start over.