The blood that does fall on this page
Forms the iron bars of my inner cage
Out of this blood I fashion words
Please listen, ma’am’s and sirs
My life is a book, whose pages I leaf
The blood is my emotions,, really only grief
In the blood I live, breathe, and bathe
What is wanted? Everything, I gave!
I am covered in blood and bruises
And no matter what I do, guess who loses?
I scream for help from my tomb
Yet I’m stuck alone in this room
I bleed profusely from my wound
Surely I will bleed out soon
I bleed from my heart and soul
Trying to regain the innocence my mother stole
I bleed from the bullet hole I put in my cortex
And it doesn’t help; I bleed as I fall into the vortex
I bleed out my pain
And all it does is leave a stain
I melt into the shadows, for blood is dark
I bleed from the sword that did hit its mark
This bleeding of grief is never-ending
And it surely is never-mending
I bleed from my nose, ears, and eyes
When will I die from grieving these lies?
I am not sure if I find comfort in the blood
But it still flows from me in a dark flood
I bleed and rot on the inside
I bleed over those who have died
But mainly, I bleed over those who I hate most of all
I bleed over you, because I was pushed, and now forever fall
Into the deep dark abyss
Cocooned in my own blood, never to find any bliss.
I am dragged in the mud
I hate you!
So leave me, forever with my thoughts and my blood