Random Poetry

Skittles

I once had a dream filled with blood stained sickles,
Of liquid filled jars and the distinct scent of pickles,
A heart weighed heavy like a bag full of nickels,
And a tearful laugh caused by nailbed tickles,
And even now, as from me the blood trickles,
I can hear in my mind all those childlike giggles,
Like the scratching at walls and chalkboard squiggles,
Yet you fail to see, as under my skin it wriggles,
As you fail to persuade me that these pills are just skittles.