freakystyley

A river from which all of life doth drink; Its eddies carry forth the living breath. It writes down life in vivid crimson ink Upon a book which when it ends comes death. Like wine from which the beating heart draws life, It nourishes with waters sweet and red. Yet still it be a double-sided knife: A bitter drink that feeds the living dead. Who knew that such a paradox as this Flows in our very veins? A mortal stream That first gives life upon a scarlet kiss Then drowns us in that last and darkest dream. O sanguine waters that I know so well, Is't life or death you bring? I cannot tell.