stories

Red Rain

Splish, splash. Drip and drop.
Will this red rain ever stop?
Flesh torn and ripped apart.
A flooded casket is my heart.
Trickle, tickle. Down my palm.
Tacky, sticky. Like a balm.
‘Friend,’ says blade, ‘you cut so deep,
time to lay you down to sleep’.
Finally breath and thought can stop.
Splish, splash. Drip and drop.

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