Venom Poem by Marcel Tourdot

My hands are numb and my mind is moving slow.
The things I’ve done have soaked my brain with such heavy vicious blows.
But still I do not know how to remove myself from all of these pains.
And still I make no efforts to remove the venom (coursing through my) veins.

So now I stand here wide awake with hands that shake, my body quakes.
And think about your beauty and (I think about) my fate.
The last time I saw salvation was in a picture of your face.
But I can’t remember where it was taken
I wish I could return back to that (safe) place.