I smell it on my fingers,
Like steel beams' scent lingers,
That bright, filthy tang,
The stench from where bullets sang,
I taste in my throat
When I'm all out of my breath,
And I feel like I'm about to choke
As I struggle for my health
I hear it in my veins,
Blue yet black and red,
Pulsing in my vessels,
Pounding in my head
I feel it on my chest,
Seeping through my clutches,
Pouring warm from pain,
Staining red what it touches
I see it on the floor,
I see it on my walls,
I see it in the war,
And as my lifeless body falls.
YOU ARE READING
Morbidity
RandomThis is basically the same thing as Something Random, with the difference of category. Morbidity contains darker things that I come up with. You'll probably see things you've read in my other works here, as I'm moving things around.
