Drops of water descending from the silver faucet           

Looking at the arms that once belonged to a pure soul

A dark feeling rushes from head to toe

As the blade is drawn upon her tender forearms

Thoughts of impurities descend from her mind

Staring upon darkness with hollowed eyes

As she slices deeply into her skin the pain fades

An indescribable yet pleasurable pain arises at the sight of the wound

Leaking of all her sins

Destined upon death

Bathing in a pool of deep red sorrow

She lies, pulseless.