Reminiscent of Failure.

Foreign blood on my hands,
unknown tears upon my face.
Bile surging up my throat,
I choke down the poison taste.

This moment is tainted with
spinning of a yellowed room.
I clutch her toy to my pounding chest,
its innocent look consumes.

Crimson stains the floor,
I feel the grotesque warmth.
Her eyes won’t ever see my shame.
Or the look of her flesh, torn.

I hear feedback-like ringing,
frequent and fast.
Blinded by the salty tears,
I’m failing to hold back.

Just to close the moment,
I play her lullaby.
Hearing every soft, low note...
begging God to let me die.