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The Stainless Stain

He never committed a sin,
Not never.
The weapon flew from his hand
But his arm did not control it.
He felt the blood against his skin,
But he did not shed it.
And yet he feels it still
Like cold, wet gloom
Soaking through his mind.
Kohaku and his mind
A ceaseless battle, though
There can never be a victor.
He never committed a sin, and yet
What he needs, craves, hungers for
Is that elixir of sinners,
Redemption.