A Brother's Blood

The blood on my hands will not wash away.
No moon shines tonight; no sun shines this day.
I sit here with my sword in my home,
Waiting for death and my tomb.
I have commited a great sin:
I have killed one of my kin.
This life I now disdain,
For it is my brother I have slain.
On this plane, I will not remain.
I now cleanse this great stain.
The blood on my hands will not wash away.
By my brother's corpse, dead I now lay.