Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the LORD. – Leviticus 19:28
You grin at me
My spine shivers with fear
Anticipation of your damage
I’m intoxicated with antiseptics
Commemorated by buzzing melodies
Dyed bullets fire
I’m injured, bleeding of your victory
As you dress my wound
My Faith, My Hope, My Love 