Poetry Excerpt

Following is a brief excerpt of raw poetry from my private journal. I've been working on it, fancying it up, but sometimes its nice to show what your poetry looks like when you first set it to page.

Is rest only for the dead?
Is life to wreck not only flesh, but soul as well?
I have stumbled far too simply,
yet I've fallen far too hard.
In contrast I have seen my soul,
and in patterns I weep for its stains.

I cannot wash them!
I cannot wash them!
For my sight is back
and I can see them!

There stands the Reaper,
holding rest, and I am shy.
Too shy to stain myself in the blood.
The Blood of I AM.

OK, Sorry

Sorry for ignoring this so long. Slovakia has been more fun than even I can handle. Here's some photos. You can guess, or you can ask in a comment; your choice.