Bitter Gore

The fuss,
The guts,
Of the night,
I cry,
Blood...
Guts...
GORE...
what is this horror,
That I brought to others?
Why is my heart ripped...
Ripped out of my chest of hiddiness?
My lungs and liver...
Stung by a arrow from a quiver...
My jaw barely hanging from my head.
My tail hanging on the desk,
Of my friend,
my dead friend,
Gore.