o sangue de cristo tem poder.

this presence, this force
is not much more than a simple choice.
a hanged man on the hill
ribbons and feathers decorating my place
"RIP" written in black neon letters
the grave in which you digged me
glows, and still hardly remains.

rivers flow under my skin
stopping all the waterfalls to tell me
you're still in the shadow
hidden by a tree.

floods shall come and stay
soaking my hands in tears
"come back to me", you said
crawling up my veins.
and suddenly i was doomed
drowned in acid, thick red blood
all over again.