another old piece of mine

Froth of the sea,
I turn to face thee.
Be what it may,
The wind knows what to say,
Stirring me, stirring sand,
Blood on fingers, knife in hand.
Dark and starless breathless night,
Atop sheer cliff I end my fight.
Far I run from deadened lands,
Blade is slipping from stained hands,
Twisting, screeching, slicing air.
A tempest tangles tangled hair.
Waves crash rocky shores below -
I have to do this; no one knows.
May stones below pierce evil skin,
May blood-stained see wash clean my sin.
Froth of the sea,
I fall down to thee.
Take my heart, my life, my soul,
Leave my body in the cold.
Forth of the sea,
I pray thee take me.