Bloodstains on my fingers

Bloodstains on my fingers

Dripping off the tips

Darkening rich liquid

Draining, bit by bit

I felt the piercing arrow

I felt the death inside

I couldn’t move my lips to say

How much I need to hide.

There was some sort of surgery

Some hateful bitter sin

The end was not even close

There was no closing in.

And just because

I felt the thrust,

I felt my insides die,

Doesn’t mean that life will end

Oh, no, it means I’ll fly.