28 January 2013
Deep scars she hides No war she has seen, These wounds spring forth From thoughts so unclean, They declare her repulsive That she is unfit, So she makes true these words With a knife and a slit.
Again and again her flesh She does tear No remorse or redemption Can bring forth repair. She makes truth of their words Pure skin torn to shreds Still no haste to stop The beast is unfed.
Words so unkind Pour forth from their lips Worse words still come forth, From her soul they rip. With a heart long since absent No life left to pretend The blade she does place.
Her steel-crimson friend.
My Steel-Crimson Friend • Opuss № I