Bad Blood

Blue blood, red blood, royal blood, good blood... Bad blood. My investigations into blood, The brifest of forays into science. Disect the subject, Swift, swift cuts. You wont feel a thing. Dripping onto the carpet, My circumstantial scientific evidence. Specimens and evidence, Evidence and specimens. Crisp dry blood, Crack, crack with movement. Heals over, Just like new. My body is a tapestry of scarred patterns. Proof of my scientific engagements. But for the lack of conclusions, I would be truely bona fide. As much blood as I cut out, Bad blood soon replaced it. Its secrets perplex my inner scientist. My inner child is scared. My outer masochist is ready. My scalpel is prepared.