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when the madness ends

and the ringing subsides.

i often wonder

what i am.



my shoes are

covered in fresh blood.

well maybe not that fresh,

as they are getting rather sticky.



its always easy

when the madness ends

to fill in the memories voids.

i just follow the trail of bloody footprints.



i follow the bloody footprints

through the hall of mirrors.

no reflection or shadow.

i wonder where you are.



i find myself in a pool of blood,

our blood,

and in it,

two rings.



leading away from the pool of blood.

on the other side.

more bloody footprints.

smaller ones, yours



it's then that i remember

a war of words.

words that cut deeper than knives.,

and create wounds ...



that will never heal.







by martin