#Madcore: In my own blood puddles, I wonder

    A bench covered in snow and a doodle of blood A poem reads: "In my own blood puddles, I wonder Why were we this way, why were we horrible My necrosis, my dying eyes, and then I remember There was no we There was a short man in red And a victim trying to survive"

    The blissful blend of my different ends
    The many times I thought I'd die
    Cutting my brain rather than veins
    I smile at you, as my back gets heavier
    I love you, as I start weeping further