The Blood On My Hands

The dreams haunt me once again. They plague my existence every so often, and I know that when I wake up something bad will have happened. And I will see the blood on my hands. Still fresh, not given enough time to dry.

Inside my head, sometimes the voice speaks to me even when I'm not asleep. He calls himself the puppet master. He controls the dreams. I used to try to resist, but if I do the blood appears in greater quantities,making it nearly impossible to wash away.

But no matter how many times I may wash away the blood running freely on the surface, the scars below remain.

I have decided to reach the bottom of the dreams. And if possible, make them dissappear for good. Even though the pain will still remain.