Salt in the air
Stings my eyes
The soft carpet sinks
It holds me in place
In the back I see the door
It bangs inside the breeze
The bloody tiles stain the floor
The man is on his knees
Iron singes my nose
The acrid scent uplifting
A morbid clarity unfolding
The sincerity is fitting
Sickly sound squish through my hears
The man is on his face
The crimson trail is on the ground
His thoughts dragged in disgrace
The lock clicks decidedly
The liquid tinkles in reply
For everything there is a place
A place for everyone to die
- Deceitful Void
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