Agony

deep hued crimson bleeds across spotted vision,
wells of suffering unearthing from the bowels of nature,
seeping into the senses like oil.

what you are is nothing,
an empty cup, a reflection,
the deeper you look, the less you see.

scream, cry, bleed... these are the privileges of your birth,
naturally, it is unjust, it is cruel,
but to want for more is gluttonous.

in spite of all your menace,
you are given merely a passing chance to see,
that suffering itself, is just a parting gift