-2-Stigmata-

-2-Stigmata-

Blood dripping, the fainting breath

Gnaws away the night, like termites,

Filling the dark with dazzling silence

Holy, slowly, sacrifice.

Eyes wide open, but lightless,

The yelling crowd fades into the black.

No more noise, no more cries

A half heaven arrives.

Lack of words, nothing left

Faith yields before bread.

A scar, a touching brush,

Gentle but fatal, poisonous thread.

Taste the fruit of sourness,

Last dinner, last rites.

Sweet tears run from the heart,

Sky turns scarlet, concludes the fight.