Red, flows the rivers of blood
Escaping from my arm and wrist
All memories of course
Since i refuse to pick up the blade

But the longer i stare at the healing scars
The greater my temptation grows
A violent addiction
Like a lion in a cage

The strange urge is kept away yet another day
And for that I am grateful, but for what?
Surely it won't hurt to go at it again
The wounds heal, the scars fade, no?

Never the less, I won't do it
I've come to far, to throw my towel
And in all of this, my friends
I believe there's a message to receive

If you are to find me
With the monster's claws on my arm
Then truly you will know
Something is very wrong

© Luca Abate