Through the shards of shattered glass floating over my fingers
I curse my night eyes, my scarlet words
my broken visage on the floor
wondering why I had to grow up looking like you
Hard to imagine the blood on my hands
holds any weight compared to yours
My sins are closer to the surface – they paint
my skin black and red, earthy, burnt,
Traitor
But still I cannot hold a candle to you
How far must my tainted hands reach
before they find you?
What else do I have
to lose?
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