CHOICES

The blood on my halo‐

drips over my eyes,

painting my vision red...

and down to my lips,

gifting me, the taste of Death‐

as the wages of sin are such.

Might I take my desires, and thoughts captive

lest my curiosity kills me, or worse‐

as my eyes, and my hands are more than willing to show me to my end,

and my feet tend to wander these paths of sin.

Might I set my vices a blaze?...

burning them all the way down to this ground which I stand on,

that the scorching of my feet may be enough to never step foot on this road again...

and that Death might lose its appeal.

~

Before the blood on my halo find its way into my palms...

shall I cut them off?...

the members of my body‐

or might I ride the full length of a wave to a shore where Death awaits?

Or, will I choose not to surf the waters of sin?

Even if I could swim, might I choose not...

as to drown, my eyes see as a better death than that that is in sin.

What could have been, and what I wish were

lost in this color covering my eyes...

this storm of red has long since washed over.

All that remains in this Burning Paradise is the blood on my halo,

and the choice to continue‐

I suppose it is what I must...

as this heart is far from its last drop, but...

~

What my eyes see as an ultimatum, stands before my face,

asking for my hands, before they loose their color...

lest I take such from another,

as my eyes have long since lost theirs‐

all they see is red...

as that is all this heart wants.

Must I not forfeit the cards I've been dealt‐

because if I do, Death will have won.

Might I continue?...

leaving behind blood‐stained footprints‐

as the blood from my halo has covered me from head to toe...

before I could see the fruits of my labor.

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