Two hands will start bleeding again,
They don’t have a body only a stump,
They bleed colorful liquid onto the carpet of my room,
As I try to stitch them up,
They fall apart as I crash into the floor,
Melding into the carpet and messy clothes,
The hands start to flood my room,
I’m drowning in the rainbow syrup,
The hands are dead on the floor once more,
It’s time for me to fade.