Sir Pious Flagellant the Third

Beat beat heart beat Tremble at tremors These are veins and lines that are common But this will be uncommon August is now the dead of winter Fear no longer stands between blade tips and skin And the opening, like blossoming of flowers Blood red Tomorrow I'll go deeper Tomorrow it will run And it stains no cheek I take pain to the peak I'm in control It will matter to them Not now I can't wait for when It must flow I wield the sword Trauma is according to my accord I make the intangible line up Thin lines raised above flesh I feel the counting off of words that never saved me Now in bravery, no language is needed I have finally fought a fight that I can conquer And you always win When you fight your skin