Infinite Stigmata

The bloodletting I've done hasn't stopped the vein, constantly shifting the blood from the bucket to the drain, the tar that etched its way, still has its way, stow the bleeding, stop the pain, its all a blur, its all the same, nothing stops the bleeding, the toxin has its way, I'm hollowed but I'm full the same, from the bucket to the drain, its excruciatingly mundane, The pig and the wolf still fight for the pain, the ash of the phoenix will rise all the same. This retribution flooding from the veins, this execution, is eternally in place.