Drops of water descending from the silver faucet
Looking at the arms that once belonged to a pure soul
A dark feeling rushes from head to toe
As the blade is drawn upon her tender forearms
Thoughts of impurities descend from her mind
Staring upon darkness with hollowed eyes
As she slices deeply into her skin the pain fades
An indescribable yet pleasurable pain arises at the sight of the wound
Leaking of all her sins
Destined upon death
Bathing in a pool of deep red sorrow
She lies, pulseless.
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