Attire of red

Upon the blanche of bathroom floor Hues of crimson free to drip. Body feels like piece of glass- Mirroring what's in my grip. Was it me, you used to love? From the start wanted me dead? Well look at me now, here i am! Clothes in my attire of red. Wrapped in blankets of pain tons, Seeking God to be redeemed. A price one has to pay at times... To let us be freed.