Crimson Aesthetics

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Rivers of blood spill

From the mouths and wounds of they who die

The beating of hearts still

To form another lullaby

A sickly sweet and bitter tune

Of those who souls, this world, depart

I work by silver light of moon

To craft these blood soaked works of art

At my side, a gleam of gold

Some treasure of those now ever lost

I am a thief yet truth be told

These trinkets do not satisfy, and so their owners pay my cost

Through this my true love I've discovered

These objects offer up no thrill

And with every bauble I've recovered

My only joy is in the kill

Once upon a time a bandit king

And through rebirth reformed, turned good

But that bleeding heart has long stopped beating

And so was born this new me, craving blood

The art of murder, a knack for death

A pleasure never before to me known

The excitement of the final breath

A satisfaction all its own

It's wrong, it's bad, it's vile

It's wicked, and unjust

But there's few else that can make me smile

Than sating an unquenched bloodlust

So catch me if you can

But it's already too late

It was over even before it began

There's just no stopping fate

There's nothing I regret

And there is no going back

The way is decided, my path has been set

And many more lives will fade to black

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I don't know how happy I am with this, the rhythm is /supposed/ to be off but maybe this is by to much. And it feels so . . . similar to my other stuff. I don't know, why don't you be the judge....R&R