I wrote this poem in my own blood,
So you could taste it like you never could.
And I hope you find it before I decay,
Else our love will not find it's way.

My friend, my cure, my sickness and health,
I count you as the richest of wealth.
I carry you beside my heart,
And know when I die you'll not depart.

You'll dig my grave with your own two hands,
And spread my ashes on stark white sands.
You'll bleed me to the ocean blue,
Until death takes the life from you.

And when you die I hope you know,
Your path to Heaven I will show.
I'll light the darkest halls of Hell,
For Heaven died when you fell.

Angels cried for us that day,
Their tears showing us a blurry way.
Through the fire, trees and rain,
They showed us Heaven to hide our pain.

After years of trudging through,
We found Heaven with Angels few.
And so you stood with valiant stance,
And raised them up with a powerful glance.

Now Heaven's full they force our leave,
But not before we try and retrieve,
Our souls from far beyond the gates,
And back to Earth to chance our fates.