A passage, one of right.
Clumsy heels raise to pointe and force me ever on.

The lights, bulbs of promise
And blades, sharp reminders.
It's just another thing hanging over my head, I remind myself
The house sighs and my throat catches fire
There's something in the air here.

The flowers are dying and I worry that I might be too.
I trade their water for well wishes and wash the smoke down with it.  
After all, black veins can't get any blacker,
I am what I am and I am tired of wagging tongues.
A stab is righteous, a slit is sin.
You bleed red,
But every colour flows in me at once

So tell me I know nothing,
I know not of truth.
State my transgressions and give me your transfusion.