Mea Culpa

A frail body soaked in blood
Almost inanimate and c0ld
Unseeing protracted eyes
Fixated at a hallowed icon

Jagged razors on the floor
Disarrayed yards of rope
Broken bottles and spilled drugs
A smoking rifle in her hand

Giving way to razor-slashed wrists
The rope burns in her neck
The froth filling her mouth
A gunshot wound in the chest

As the sheets turn crimson
The winds outside howled loudly
For one breath of life is again
Spiraling to sheer vacuity

Her bleak mirthless mortality
Swiftly flashes before her
Long-buried memories of pain
Reminiscence of short-lived joy

So it goes for one death
Another life must be repaid
The cycle of life never ends
Mea culpa, mea culpa