blood
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The smell of sand.
The feeling of peace.
The edge to cry for absolutely no reason.
The cravings...the need to be held.
It wasn’t something you’d expect
I never thought it would be her
That the kindest person I’d ever met
Could possibly be the killer
The single person I latched onto
i crave for blood to fill my arms,
my thighs.
like red ink on a peice of paper.
i enjoy it, though, it's a problem
i can never shake.
Once I was
A poem;
Lines carved
Into arms
And rewritten,
Revised,
Rehearsed
Until I was
Red ink
On the floor
And never wrote
Another line more.
1 to 2 weeks, that’s how long it takes to regenerate new taste buds. To replace the taste buds that once danced with your own. That tasted the sweat on your skin and the chocolate you bought for me.
The bloods of disdain became apparent over time
I'd have trekked a million hells only to say it wasn't mine
And the rough terrain was rocky and ill structured like we;
Found lost, exposed, and alone each time
As I spilled the crimson petals,
The air around me, began to fill with it's fragrance.
And as the sun began to set,
It's rays painted the sky in diff shades of colours.
But the sunset that I created,
I can still feel the needle peirce my skin
Taste the glass stem between my lips
I can still feel the white girl flowing into my veins
My body going numb, between my ears hearing the train
I can be used for simple things,
Carving, cutlery and pain.
Doctors use a form of me, when they cut into your brain.
I’m used in art, as both the method and subject,
Here I walk, alone,
Down a cobblestone road.
Here I walk, alone,
Left with my hollow thoughts.
Here I walk, alone,
Wondering what to do.
I can't go back home,
Not after what happened.
1,000 friends in a life time you could make.
Unfortunately; most will turn out fake.
Only a few will prove themselves true.
As you do them, they care about you.
I still remember in vivid detail the first time my father made me bleed. It was a cold November evening and we had just finished dinner. I was all dressed up in my golden basketball jersey ready for a game.
It is a sight that repulses the others.
Blood splattering against the pristine marble floor,
a Scarlet fan.
Bloody rivers racing,
Cloth can’t cover enough,
Eventually all will be exposed.
You try to sneak by,
“Don’t let them see you cry.”
The blood has a calming effect,
Knife carving into the soft squishy flesh; blood dribbling off the plate.
Letting out a faint subtle sigh, admiring his handiwork.
Summer’s here and the Sun’s Glare
Brings little children—aliens—
With tinted vision to live in a
Body [of water] that is not their home. They see reaching arms
my niggas are drenched from head to toe in red.
colors matter.
my moms face is overwhelmed in blue.
colors still matter.
traumatized criminalized minds on green.
colors will matter.
The red petals
Remind of blood
Which is
What they will draw
When someone
Dares to come
Too close
Beautiful souls
Always have
The sharpest thorns
To protect
There is an unspoken fear
Of the fear that lies within.
Of the fear boiling in my veins,
Of the fear peeling back my eyelids at 1 a.m.
I say nothing.
There is an unspoken fear
Of the fear that lies within.
Of the fear boiling in my veins,
Of the fear peeling back my eyelids at 1 a.m.
I say nothing.
I would like to look at the sky, but the starsopen my blood and disturbthe verses on the mouths of the dead:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul;
And sings the song without the words
And never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson, you are a wonder. How the world could not see
PLASMA
I donate my plasma a lot these days because
it makes me think of you.
You thought it was silly how
I pass out at the sight of blood
A mind of wonders,
Imagination locked inside.
Idle hands,
desperate to be untied.
Expressions bleeding,
through the veins.
From the wild mind,
To dormant hands.
Bleeding onto pages
its heart has been pirced
An aversion to the spill
They say the felt feels
too loud to see
The crimson color
Makeing meanings unclear
Only blue or black
Patchwork stitching stars in the sky:
Blue, green, indigo, violet.
Thread is scarce so you have to use mine.
Smooth wooden handle
6 inches, nearly 10 when flicked open
to reveal stainless steel
The blade marred only by a few oily fingerprints
and a speck of brown
It smells of dust
and of dried blood
the best part of the norovirus
is that while it robs you of your breath,
leaves you sweat-shaking with hot chills in bed
it also steals your appetite
finally,
to be empty by no willpower of my own
His hands are calloused and torn,
browned by the sun as always but
now they are stained red with blood
Silent, he grips
the butt of his rifle with one hand
and a dirty cloth with the other
Do you wanna play twister with me? Want to roll up your soul with my spine, take off the meat suit, be able to fly. Let's escape in this starfall night, knock at my window, break my strings of logic, I love your psychosis.
paper gause
pen sword
red ink
poem
slash for every
wrong answer
i kind of want to
subtract you
My name is insanity.
See the way my teeth bleed,
My eyes shine,
My cackles echo through the corridors of night.
Do you see my stretching smile?
I know you do.
Would anyone care if I dropped off the earth,
Would anyone shed a tear?
Several sobs, a few gasps, some chairs at my funeral,
Then I'm just simply not here.
Would anyone care if I ended my life,
Tears set in blood on a child's face,
A child betrayed by older men,
Dissolve with a blush of embarrassed shame,
As five long years of silence begin.
Confused hands tremble in a disoriented state,
The razor no longer slides through my wrist,
But I'm bleeding through the falling tears.
I have it all. I have the friends.
I have the love. I have the family.
On her face she wore a smile,
Battered heart out of sight
Masks hid her from society,
Holding her up they watched her fall from the height.
To the Artist Who Painted the Portrait of a Heavy Heart,
Your frayed brushes with shattered, splintered handles devoid of paint
I hide my body,
And decorated my soul,
I don't put doormats or door signs,
That says "welcome" anymore,
I got rid of all the dodders,
And sowed seeds of dreams in my chest,
They calim
To be your family
But still
They neglect you
And tell you
They don't want you
They may claim
To be your family
But my love
They are not
Look here
dear JDM
i dont know what makes you think what you did was okay
cause in reality it wasnt even close to okay
you left your pregnant wife to raise a child alone
i hope one day you read this
Abigail SullivanPart 1: A Letter to Cerebral Ameloid Angiopathy.
Out of nowhere, you chose my dad as a potential victim to interrogate.
Dear Papa, at night i would open my window to touch the warm breeze that sang me to sleep every night the moon the last image to grace my eyes before slumber i grew up with mama telling me to be wary of the moon to never look through the glass at
Dear You (yes, YOU, reading this),
when they write us down in history, what is left to remember us by?
will it be the rumble of our cars passing by? spewing posionus gasses that will fill our infant's eyes.
How many times do I have to slit my wrists
to get rid of the poisoned blood in my veins.
It was once believed most issues could be cured
by draining the infected blood.
So how many scars must my body endure
In Red is where my life is.
That large blaring red light that deserves a sound but doesn't have one.
I am swimming in this pool of red,
Unlike anyone I know.
These are my tears, that drips into the very first lines that I wrote on this paper. My own blood spewing out of my body. The blood. My blood boiling. Only do to the fact of knives! Knives, knives, and more KNIVES!
As we grow old...
We are supposed to listen to what we are told.
The wise & the bold,
Told us something that we should all take & hold.
The horn calls
The sky falls
The wind blows
With the sun aglow
The soldiers toiled in their plight
The bird on the trees took head and took flight
Violence for ages, sun up till sundown
Muted grey
Shades of pain
Blurry sneers
My arms stretched out
Coils freeze on my limbs
Hanging above soulless concrete
When I was 10,
While brushing my teeth I noticed
my gums bleeding-
And my mother told me
That it was just bad blood leaving the body.
That I’m doing such a good job,
At respecting myself.
Hands placed on a unclean slate. Clans faced off and deaths happening at a unreal rate.Bodies lay quietly upon the ground, shoddy warn down knives all around.
Blood red words
My stinging cheek
A silver knife hides behind you eyes
This is not what I want
A small seedling should grow into a tree
The crimson drops under the moonlight
A howl echos through the long night
The stars that shine way up high
A dreary gleam covers the sky
My body slowly stats to quake
Fear within my heart it does make
once upon a time
our lives were intertwined the right way
the love we had so sticky sweet
rich like batido de mamay*
flower garlands
lockets
locked hands
Once upon a time,
There was a beautiful girl.
Her hair smelled of rotten pine,
Skin rotting off in whirls.
"Beauty," the Prince said
Face plant off the third floor The blood splatter paints a pretty picture of why he didn't matter And who's sadder the committer or his encouragers Such a shame he had no one around to feel his hurt
Since firearms manifold more bang for their buck,
any rational per son or daughter, one wood love to chuck
fired and squawks like Donald Duck
up in arms at alarming spike vis a vis trigger, where luck
We watch the news today just to see
Hate crimes, tragedies, natural disasters
Few cute story's are mentioned
Few happy endings are told
It is filled with blood and unhappiness
Our country is great
I wrote a poem to choke my sorrow.
Like a blot of gauze to staunch the blood flow.
Drops of blood drop and drip between my toes,
from wound that punctured lung like jagged bone,
Its a big white world
in which we must add color ourselves
however the only color I have is crimson
the color of humanity
for I am as human as they get
The world will never be colorful
I want to draw stripes on my body
use myself as a canvas
draw horizontal stripes
draw vertical stripes
draw diagonal stripes
Give.
Give.
Give.
The things that suit me suit you as well.
I can give you myself
You can accept it wholeheartedly
But sadly,
Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Count to ten.
One.
Two.
Your heart begins beating faster and faster, causing a terrible pain inside.
You bring your hands to your chest and dig your fingers into yourself.
“There’s blood on the snow!” I cry,My words are like the wind whisking by.Revealed in those sheets of snow so white,Cultivates a crimson cause for fright.
I have so much to say
So let these words bleed blood that I am unwilling
Only a few represented
Some unseen
I may write and hide it from myself
Spirals of poetry clog my shelf
Caught between one life and the next,
the ground cracks beneath my feet, singing.
Throw yourself, it croons, ageless volcanoes
humming up through jagged earth.
My heart breaks, tugging me forward,
I want to be something to give to people.
I want my words I one day write,
to make people feel something.
To be so strong, they feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.
What is it like to watch me cry?
What is it like to wipe away the tears from my eyes?
Do they match in color?
I can tell you what it is like
To watch you cry
Every heave of your chest
i am
the same
thick
red
blood
as
my ancestors.
-courageous
I'm screaming
He's here
He's there
He's everywhere
I can't get rid of him
No matter what I do
I've tried killing him
It just won't do
Nowhere to go
Holy shit
He's here
I have this sort of obsession.
It’ll seem alarming, but hear me out.
I have these dreams, visions really, of blood.
It’s fresh, dripping or pooling on hardwood floor.
Someone told me it's not the end,
Into the darkness I descend.
Falling through empty promises
That are to never to come true,
Tied to a noose made by the view of the world
As I dangle wordless and helpless.
Words flow through my veins like blood;
I feel them pulse and quiver through.
When my tongue is thick and mouth runs dry,
I will write the words I cannot say.
I will write these words to you.
I lay in a bed of rose flowers.
The thorns pricked
My thighs
blood trickled down
My sides
Into the forever decaying soil
Pricked fingers
crimson gushing
I was named after a rose
You've only hit me once
Across the face with an open palm
It wasn’t that bad,
What hurt worse was the betrayal
You had never hit me before
Tear down the wall
Sturdy and tall
Set firm with mortars that kept us in thrall
Blood dirt and steel
Flaming hot feel
Darkness envelopes within the soul.
Consuming first from the edges like a t-shirt stained with blood
We look into ourselves for hope
I once had a dream...
I was with friends I've never seen before.
The Life-of-the-Party friend had a powderd rock discovered by her scientist father.
White as snow,
The beautiful rose.
So fragile its petal,
Hiding the thorns.
The thorns that it hates,
For it ruins its beauty.
It ruins its purity.
Among the red roses
She belongs not.
Born and raised in a glory-hungry west, where a mad king now lays
However, under the care of a beloved royal family, whom shall fight, love, and care for you; even up till the rapture
If those walls could talk,
I know what they'd say;
It'd be no comfort to families,
Whose lights've gone away.
For when sky fades to black,
And blues turn to grays,
And gun's life-taking crack,
And how my heart did feel that day
When all alliance beat upon the crush'd
All hope of victory was deftly flush'd
By blood and for low price was I betrayed
But all in secrecy was soft relayed
Black for her darkness hidden.
Blue for her not yet cried tears.
Green for her pain that is there but not found.
Pink for all her fake smiles.
Purple for the laughs that pains her but she tries.
Art;
the (blood rushing through
my veins, painting me with color in this
gray, flavorless world)
ability to
take your brok-
en, s e n s e l e s s,
s
c
a
I can hear the clock ticking.
My ears are bleeding.
I hear your voice in my head.
I am choking on my spit and you're snickering.
I wish I could hate you.
You revel in the blood pouring from my veins.
"The last stand was made here
Where life drained the hills
The last stand was made here
Where many were killed
The last stand was the last
Though he did not stand
He was hung on a cross
My old friend... a trinket to my soul that contributes to making my life more whole....
You are a gift to me.... one I cherish very deeply. The sun is starting to rise, take my hand, together we can avoid our demise....
Closed walls, walled hearts
narrow halls, hollow parts.
A man alone, set apart
Black Turnstone, hidden heart.
High throne, thin skin
I wield a fist that has shattered glass, leaving in its wake
Shards strewn across the crimson splatter
lining the sink where I weep
sinking,
sinking,
sinking down into
Blood drips from murderous assaults
Onto the rich soil of the earth
Its crimson essence cries to all
That Life will no longer give birth
No one
Not even the rain
Can quite feel my pain
As I call out your name
And its a shame
That you left me in vain
While I crawled on the floor leaving a small blood stain
I'm swimming in red today.Don't mind me,Don't let me cause you delay,In your daily comings and goings.
There, a bloody knife in his handThere, he went from boy to manCrying, tears from the eyes in his headTraumatized from the blood he had shedHow his youth had gone so quickly
Kite grasped within a child's gripThin string suddenly slipsLost past burnt finger tips.Once was so dear, no long hadDevoured by blue quick sand.To the nothing reaches desperate, empty hands.
Honey please, put the razor down
Please, don't tie that rope to the ceiling
We need you here
I need you here
And somewhere, your future love is waiting for you
You have had too much hope
Inside your soul
And when you wake up
With blood streaming down
Your legs
And tears
Falling down your face
The first person you want to curl into
Do you see me?
Am I…real?
The clouds of Shadows
Overwhelm the Medicine
As the years go by
I try to heal...
Am I trapped?
Is this the reality?
The one I have heard about-
She sits there staring at her wrist
Blade in hand
She begins to draw thin lines
Bursts of red exploding from her skin
Voices of her classmates and even herself
Scream at her words of destruction
What color is perfection?
That elusive transcendence from reality
That which demands unnecessary change
I see you, and you are transparent.
I am flesh and bone
I bleed when I am cut open
Maybe I should just run away.
If not a single soul should care,
Why on earth would I stay?
I've tried everything to numb this pain.
But nothing seems to kill the sadness.
Birth of new born killers
high end thrillers
sparse chances, taken with unease
beans and peas,
mark disease and
players can't see me
'cause I was never on a team
in the first dream, I ever had
Listen O' ye weary traveler
To my tale of Love and Death.
This life is a cruel mistress,
She isn't hopeless
She isn't worthless
She isn't mediocre
She isn't ugly
She isn't alone
She knows this.
She feels hate
She feels shame
She feels guilt
She feels regret
Bleeding because it paints the pictures
so heavily spilled
in my mind.
And seeing the crimson upon my skin
Gives me pain that makes me real.
Crying because
It makes me view
Oh! There it is,The blood of my Mothers’SinsBlossoming onMy white sheetsLike a bouquet of English roses.A shame -Laundry day hadBeen yesterday. My thighs have been painted
I.
Comfort me in the time of hour
At a time of utter loss
That I see thy face as a partial flower
Pure and mighty were thy words
In a storm they have caressed me
“somewhere, there is a museum of unfinished surgeries.” – Dylan GarityI. the man who runs this place wears blue Nikes.he keeps them clean for the most part, aside
The blood seeps in
Through the cracks on the walls
And it penetrates
Into my spirit
Evolving my state
Into a more impeccable union
Listlessly it closes in
On the lion
You don't have long to live
So why end it now
Stress can go so far but
obtaining the power of decision
can save your lives
Prick my finger on thistle
That speaks sweetly, of royalty
Find the moth-eaten holes in its words
Through the smell of my copper-scented blood
Trap me in amber and hide me away
The city's ubiquitous form floods the room
Room filled with the scent of molding tea leaves
Leaves fluttering to the ground in dead clusters never again to bloom
Again, she sits, and stares and waits.
Darkness consumes the world
Like black wings unfurled
The cold shroud wraps my heart
And aloof, I stand apart.
Tired Eyes, and broken vessels..
Crimson streaks, and open wounds...
No escape for me, only the passion I once had.
No will left to fight, no life left to live
So he got there this morning, saw no one, just her bed.
Which was curiously red. So he called up the detective,
"Listen here," he said. She's missing, nowhere to be found.
Anger corses through my veins,uncontrolable rage shook within me,I was un happy.
My blood boiling cold,My eyes uncaring,words like a knife,cutting all near me.
A lust for Blood, a lust for love.
A need for peace; for all wars to end.
The human blood, of such sweet scent.
Why, oh why must the scent linger in the air?
A Blood Moon NightWritten by Adam M. SnowTonight I watched in awe,the moon once pure and white.
Slice
Bittersweet Crimson
Curdling, Boiling, Steaming
Painful Relief, Excruciating Beauty
Oh, Bloody Hell
As my skin captures rays from the sun,
I start thinking about what went down.
The way he hit her and how they both liked it,
The way she started to pale as crimson stained his hair.
I'm a fountain of blood in the shape of a girl that hoped one day that maybe she could be loved.
You told me I was beautiful.
You taught me to talk.
You told me I was your princess,
Do you hate the way that our magnetized timesturn us all to metal shavings-- push and pull--charged eachday to fill up negative spacewith negative attraction?Were you repulsed when polarities
We're all fucking alone and
I hate being reminded of it.
Leave me
And then come back
showing me pictures and
videos of you without me.
Leave me
And then never reply to my
I tried to write poetry on my wrist
but the blood spread and smeared
and now I can't read a thing.
Walking down the street with tear in my eyes and you still have words to say to me?
My head in the ground, dirt in my face and your still kicking me?
A sea of dead bodies
Lay on a blood-stained field.
The dead are nothing but a memory.
The last one standing is the winner.
The one who kills all the others-
He is called The Hero.
On the bed and on the bathroom counter
I lost track of time, maybe two hours?
I completely devoured the passion
you were incredibly lacking
and got a high of pure satisfaction
Screams can be heard
the obliterate stares of those
who don't have a clue
do they really
do you
The bloody fingernails
scrape the chalk board
and the spine tingling sound
Fresh flesh bleeds upon the ancient grounds of history
Flesh that isn't our own
Those chunks of human life belong to our brothers and sisters born to delete the wrong doings of war sickened people.
They fight.
It was a long night...
What grief, what sorrow did fill my heart.
An ache unsatisfied with tears. Unsealing wounds.
The thickest blood does seep from daggers.
A kiss of death...Resurrection, I know.
Sometimes, sometimes when I find…
That my voice is so tiny, so especially paltry.
I can’t help but think how reality seems so bleak.
It seems like nothing,
Not even a spark of
Life is wrought a letter,
Written slow to live the read,
Longing to be tucked away,
For living long in Heart.
And yours, while still it beats,
Pumps Ink unto the Pages,
***For those who have suffered through Natural Disasters***
Ocean of blue,
Blood of red.
Laying within
Mother Earth’s bosom
On grassy beds.
Music of birds
It comes like a mist in the darkness
discreet and soft spoken.
So unkown and alien just like
the dark side fo the moon.
Comely as a ruby till
blood is drawn due to wrong.
One last time i look in the mirror
my eyes red, blood shot
unfinished tears
running down my pale cheeks
my hair's a mess
tangled on top
i cant even bare to meet my own reflection
What has this world become?
There are just so many things they stay away from.
All of these v i r u s e s s p r e a d i ng
My heart is heavy.it is a wrecking ball: stone cold and rock solid.weighing me down.the weight of it,
I dream of bleeding in front of your eyes,
But I must compromise.
I'm dying to overdose from the red that once covered the bed,
Now only in my head,
Slowly becoming a whiter shade of pale as my heart beats,
I don’t want to be here now but I don’t want to go.
Been gone so long now I don’t remember how.
No not how I got here but where I am now.
I don’t live ‘cause I’ve got no soul,
As the sun goes down our journey starts and our feet begin to wander
For hours and hours we hike, and over countless trails we ponder
The journey is long and its not easy, its nothing but sweat and blood for miles
Filthy hands shine in the light of the beautiful pain.
Glistening in the promise sin offers to gratify the mind’s desires.
Relief from the pain in frozen blood cries out.
Trembling.
Find yourself a simple peace,
Calm your raging inner sea.
Rain still falls deep in your heart,
Let the drops wash away the lingering hurt.
Let it all go before the rain turns to flood,
Sometimes, I strike it low.
I hit rock bottom.
I fall.
And I'll lay there for a minute,
shocked by cold concrete.
Bare.
Skull-shattering.
There's a reason I'm here.
Blood is pumped by the heartThe heart that beats with rhythmRhythm of the streetThe street where we grew upGrew up and grew apartApart from the worldThe world and each other of course
Looking in the mirror I see a girl...
I'm watching her scream
I'm rewinding her dreams
I'm watching her cry
I'm practically watching her die
I sit back and watch as she tries to wipe the tears from her eyes.
Razor Blade
Dealing with depression—it’s a hard thing that I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy. Seriously.
Wanting to not be alive, to disappear, and to not be seen. It’s too hard to deal with.
I have been getting perfects score on my quizzes
but when my exam came back, I almost had a heart attack.
In my mind I had written a letter on the matching portion
but to my dismay I have left blank three questions!
Ink in the bowl goes on to skin
Culture from Africa to Americas Indians
Ink that is absorbed into the mind
Held in place forever in time
We won the battle.
We fought the fight.
We rode in saddles
Til' the end of the night.
The blood was spilled.
Boys became men.
Innocent tears filled.
Their dads, they wouldn't see again.
She writes the story on her wrists.
One of heartbreak, abuse, and sorrow.
When will this pain end?
She cries out in agony.
"I can't make it until tomorrow!
When will this pain end?"
When the blood of kings is shed
and the world grows silent, waiting
then a single spark of dread
breaks the silence of the fighting
When the blood of kings is shed
Hushed voices. Everyone turns. My name still in the air. Spread rumor. Everyone believes.
Ignore them. Walk to my seat. Throw myself down. Head on desk. Let it all out.
My Love,
You are my heart, my joy, and my bride.
For you, I took the nails and the wound in my side.
For you, I was beaten beyond recognition.
For you, I lived knowing I’d endure crucifixion.
I remember one morning
I sat on the porch and played with my dolls
Gritty sand of the ground
In my teeth
Under my nails
I remember looking up
There was a man walking down the road
Drain my skin with hands that plunge into my flesh.
Ruby drops streaming down my arms, my legs, my chin.
Sliding and mixing with salty sweat and tears.
Blood pouring down
like a thunderstorm
the smell of earth
replaced by
the strong smell
of iron
and salt
Blood pouring down
all innocence bathed
washed away
Depression… I’m nauseous.
Obsession… Over cautious.
Learned my lesson… I’ve got this.
Left with less and got the obvious.
A fracture… it’s painful.
Your stature reveals a vain full…
Of poison.
Il est de la plus riche couleurCelle d’une cerise mûreOu peut-être d’une fleurQu’on donnerait à son amoureux.
I find myself tied to a string,
There's an urge pulling at me.
I cut off all the heads of my enemies,
I begin to saw away at my personalities.
I saw fountains in mountains,
It was only a spring.
Nerline!
Nothing more, nothing less
My name among other things pronounced at his lips' release
A petrified shiver down my spine
We are nothing more than strangers who
Mountain ridges arise from your back
Everything is broken
gloves on, real friends, fake friends
No Tongue
Raven at your window
get out get out get out
permanent, this
It all started one day
she got threatened, got made to do something she didn’t want to do
thought it would get better, but no, it stayed the same
Shells bursting is the only din.
The dirt launched up from the moist ground.
My vision is blinded by the light.
I must withstand. Even despite
The fact that I cannot be found.
Many wonder why
Self-Inflicted
Inhibiting
"sigh"I just
couldn't deal with it all
internal pain- in my weeping mind
I couldn't take
couldn't cry
so I broke a mirror
The ever passing time
has been justified by the rise and fall,
of the hyped star,
which has seen our planet from the start.
Blood burns inside her wrists so sore
until she’s writhing on the floor
in acute pain caused by the madness
of consuming ones heart and wanting more.
The red drips from her baby nose
Everyday I walk down these halls terrified
I can feel the stares and read their lips
Calling me anything they can think of
Just to hurt me
My mind fools me
Making me think I'm strong enough to take it
If I put my fist to my chest
I feel a sensation so sweet to the living body
The heart
The muscle so strong
Coursing blood through not only my veins
But my arteries first
So pure and so bright
her garden flourished
flowers of every kind
in every color imaginable
she took good care of her garden
kept the weeds away
never let any thorns grow
A story about my Uncle Sam who doesn't seem to get enough money, and it's hurting every single person out there.
Our forefathers bled for us.
They took the pain of being
different away.
They fought against the
stubborn who would never
allow black people to have
rights.
Chains chafe my skin
My blood mixes with the sweat upon my back
Both rivulets running down and racing to the dry dirt
My burden affixed upon my shoulders
A droplet drips down
Ruby red and perfect
Falling from the wound
Of the fallen man
Lifting his head
He tries to stand
But, alas, he can't
He is a fallen man
You must be cool and composed
You must- even when all are opposed
You must deny your morals and speak tact
You must unite your comrades, you have a pact
