Blood

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• I am a symbol of many things, Some claim I am the essence of life, Others hiss I am the sinister kiss of death

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• I should say I am akin to a mutt, And fall somewhere in between

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• Grown men shudder at my pidder-patter, But some strange few I’ve seen cursed in laughter,

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• Each droplet of my being floats cool and patient, Running its course through the silk vines of blackness,

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• As a feathery owl tucking night’s wind beneath its wings Slice open One’s heart, To set me free,

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• Released from endless ebony, And swathed rich in new scarlet,

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• I swim further from my prison, Taking One’s life along with me

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• Cruel as it may be, My tendrils must move while they can,

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• Like some dying serpent, Before these crimson tresses lay petrified once again.