Bleeding Tears In My Skinbottle

So in the blinding light of times A blushing sense of blinking occurs Small, ridged glass shards Engorge my view And paint my soul scarlet, always Soaked in the scarlet ashes I grieved, And to those ends, the loss of my vision and the future that was Such miserable tears as I have What am I to do with these? They are my only legacy. From torn-off flesh as victim as I was Soaked through, perspiring pores I crafted for my sake a skin bottle that would house my only possessions. That would Otherwise be lost with time. Flayed and gored Being slaughtered in carnage I pooled all my possessions through this skin bottle of mine With each of these afflictions of flesh I made my deposit timeously. How does it feel? How should it have felt? Each drop was the salvation otherwise lost with nature, aged through space Long i cried, many days i kept dying Dripping my possessions, so not to waste These were my only legacy. That atleast,  even the torment was real I don't want to be an unknown In the only world I have know No trace i was ever present Erased, as a beast of the field Here one  morning,to be devoured by noon So in my agony I'll keep dripping these jewels into my skin bottle There atleast my legacy lives on And so  i was here, I was present. Even if pain was my legacy Isn't a name better that an unknown? Or am I to die as the beasts of the fields Known and remembered by none. I must keep my legacy tight under my arms a possession forged from my pains Molded by myself for my own comfort Even through the discomfort As I plead, bleeding my tears. Relieving them forward into my skin  bottle My one true legacy, proof I existed