Sleep is Your Witness.

I lied my drunken head,
Upon the stones in the vineyard.
And shut my restless eyes,
Because sleep withholds the act of slashing.
Where the horrors I've commited will repeat itself.
Each night, the killings will haunt me through the dark.
So I trembled away from the horrors that sent me here.

After weeks of long sleepless nights,
I drifted with the thought of murder on my mind.
With the strong smell of wine,
That once inspired me to lift my blade.
My head soundly pressed against the stones.
Sleep... Is my only witness.
 
I woke up two days after then,
With a headache and wine strongly on my breath.
Relieved of haunting sleep,
But the blood still remained on my hands.
Blood slithered down my head,
From the stones I slept on for so long.
I paused there for moments,
To accept that the nightmares will always last.
I risen sore and covered in the dry blood
The blood that I will last in.