venomous tears from my body of bones

I shed off my flesh, poisoned by the holy water I drank that night 

When I vowed my loyalty, my support for eternity

To find myself at the riverbanks with empty, bloody hands is a cruel play by nature 

Of human nature. 

All you do is slither around, self righteously. 

You find yourself in a venomous puddle of frogs dead by your hand.

Indirectly, of course. 

That’s the beauty of it all, you’re never to blame.