Running Red
Crimson flows thickly
over cobbled stone,
running like water
so sickly smooth,
the irony smell is
filling the air,
making it hard to breath,
as it pools around my feet,
i can feel the warmth fade,
finally noticing that from my
wrist it trickles,
i collapse, as my vision
fades to black.
Copyright © Samantha Search | Year Posted 2011
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