If I could write you a book 
Embossed with past regrets
And pen such crimson words
Ink would lesson the value 
And taint the pain
Keep me from pointless love
Entrust me to send my regrets 
A tarnished heart with bloody hands
Deeds sewn deep shall reap a harvest
One, pregnant with pains 
Future marked by past milestones
I see no reason why to die
For life in hell is hell enough
Purified by purgatory
This saint's soul shall never burn
Only despise the demise
That was almost the undoing of me