The blood from my wrists
can no longer be yours

as i fly without wings
Through the time of strings

I am no more than dead
my soul will fly

the angels will sing
The people who killed me

Will scream as their blood spills onto my hands.

And i say to myself,
is this hell?

Hey baby! This is very good, a little...uh....depressing, but very insightful. Why not maybe try writing other themes? Like about love? Love is good. Anyway, it's still beautiful, like you! x x x