Stage Blood

Please don’t make me wash the blood from my hair
I know it’s sticky but I don’t care

It’s a simple token of a night
Where for once my heart it felt alright

For once I felt I was one of the greats
I was accepted and happy which is never my fate

And on the last eve of my romps in the glory
My face and hair wound up a little gory

But I don’t mind. Please don’t make me. It just isn’t fair
To force me to wash memories from out of my hair
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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