Heart aching pull, vibrant as white splotches on the sky.
Blood slowly pools, vitality dripping like wine.
The tree where thine life prevails when mörkret har förbrukat dig.
But you aren't a tree-
You couldn't care less.
You're bleeding out the pain, focusing only on the shade.
Not quite crimson, not quite happy.
Light falls dimly on your cavity:
Brain cells begone.