Gushing Out

My bleeding stab wound was now starting to sting. At first it felt like nothing, mostly just warmness around my stomach area. But then it grew larger, it started to feel as if a hundreed bees were stinging me one by one, and only getting faster and faster at doing it. I almost couldn’t feel the warmness of the blood anymore, maybe I was bleeding out, and I was on the verge of sweet death. Though it wouldn’t be so sweet if I were tasting it through the hands of someone else. My hands were sacred, they were hands that needed to be felt, that were blessed. And I would never dare to pull away from something as special as sacred self sabotage. All the mistakes I have done, all the journeys I have been through were all for nothing, all for a small moment that lead up to my eternal deletion. I had no choice but to be at peace with the idea, after all, I was the one who committed the crime, and shame was not in my blood, at least not in the one that was gushing out of my stomach.

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