A sky of blood-soaked amber, a sea of polished steel,
The stars remain half-faded like the pink of a cut,
That one morning where nothing could hurt me anymore,
That one morning when I could live again.
The crimson-dyed sky is edged by a trail of fire,
The air outside is a frost of smoke and sea-salt,
This morning I will not tear open these scars,
I will not bleed to match the stab-wounded sun.
Since that morning you have killed me again, stabbed through the heart,
The wounds were re-opened, and bled themselves dry,
Depression swooped down like a vulture and blackened the sky,
The amber sun faded and hardened like a festering scab,
I lost myself in the dark as I was torn apart.