DRIPPING BLOOD

Blood!

It is set free,

from the shackle of life.

Gone are the days,

It endlessly toil,

to keep sins and madness afloat.

Yet it is cold out there,

there are glowing eyes in the dark.

They hunger.

The tongues are waiting.

Fingers are outstretched.

The crimson stream,

starts to miss the warmth,

the blissful ignorance.

But what has left cannot return.

It screams.