• It may be true that all men bleed red; that is untill they are dead.
    Once, twice, thrice my cuts be yet they bleed not red, but black I see...
    No one can see this color but me, and thus I remain as I see.
    Alas, with no color to my blood, how can I live? How can I be?
    One being backwards, not I can see.
    Allow me to live, and I will die.
    Allow me to thrive and I will wither.
    Allow me to die... And I will exist no longer.
    How can I be if not being loved?
    How can I see without a light to guide me?
    No matter now... For I am dead... That is, at least, how I am in my head...