Midnight Quills

Within these depths of fiery hell,
Shadows bleed from an empty shell.
Blood runs black and dead and cold,
Victim to Death’s icy hold.

Your scars cover my pale flesh -
Upon my arm, your name I etch;
Across my skin the blood flows free;
Through crimson tears, your face I see

A broken body falls from grace,
Blood covering a shattered face.
Lifeless and cold, upon the floor -
To wander heaven’s halls no more.