Repentance

One cold October morning When the sun hadn’t yet made to rise But the sky was a turquoise reflecting the Coming of the morning I woke up and placed my hands upon my bathroom counter And realized they were covered in blood. A bright, artificial color, I will add. I wonder where it came from. Did I hurt myself in my sleep? Was I bleeding somewhere that I was not aware about? Or perhaps this blood is not mine. No, it is the blood of my sins, That can only be washed off by the priest With God’s blessed water to soften them And make them pure once more.