I stared into the eyes of dirt,

And knew that mud would soon form within,

If only they could.

I turned from you,

Pressed to find a colder heart,


Somewhere deep within my own.

And though I'd spilled so much blood,

Times past,

Decades before,

This wilting strand of acceptance I held close,

Haunted me forevermore.

-Xavier Delacroix

A piece written for a character. I think I may make this into a thing.

-S.C./Sheron Parris