It’s true if you beg,
You’ll see all you’ll get,
Is nothing you ever wished for,
At the price of your own head.

Bloodshed.
Crimson red.
Before the dread.
I stealthily fled.

“Look ahead!
Look how they’ve spread!
Come,” he said,
“I want them all dead!”

Off I tread,
More I had shred,
I sped and I sped,
But my legs were misled.

My hurt and swelling head,
Fell to the riverbed.
In these moments,
They approached overhead.

What poison like lead!
These savages are fed.
Injustice crossbred,
With sinister bloodshed.

So now instead,
On my deathbed,
The pain that led,
Gave sight of heaven.

Salvation is met.
No more to fret.
The had abet,
This fine bliss yet.