Author Information
His Fingers Trace The Narrow Path
His fingers trace the narrow path
The blue-blood river of his vein
Like a bird his razor glides
But only he can feel his pain
The slow release of endless tears
Falling from his eyes
The slow relief as countless fears
Swirl in the crimson tide
Blood red rain falls at his feet
From wounds he cannot hide
But criss-crossed scars mean little now
For he's emotionless inside
