Her favorite color was Green,
Until she turned 17,
Then she cursed her skin with Red.
Random patterns of lines to others,
A sacred catharsis for herself.
Her blood tattoos made her feel new,
Those symbols became her source of power,
Even the one’s on her neck, back, and thighs too.
The blood tattoos gave the girl meaning, and formed her identity.
She cut the world away, and bled out the misery of a young heart betrayed.
The girl with the blood tattoos is now a woman today, and she no longer carries the burden of the red curse. In fact, I saw her just the other day, carrying a green purse.