Twisted as the games we play
A mind thrown into disarray
The garment, thrown onto the floor
The finger caught inside the door
A stain upon the blemished sheet
A place where we forgot to sweep
The blood that heals us from within
The wait that we've yet to begin
Waning as the dying sun
It's over and not one has won
Pivot and reach back again
You've let go of the fruitless kin
But leave your soul here
Breathless.