The Girl With The Crimson Blood
By Thornton H. Knife
Bleeding her crimson blood in plain sight
Bleeding her invisible blood in plain sight
Bleeding her sickly blood in plain sight
Bleeding her interesting blood in plain sight
It spills onto the steps of this great institution
A tear, solitary, dominates her blue eyes as she races down the steps -shunned by the elite organisation that employed her.
Her bleeding voice begs for understanding, her cry is met with a hostile laugh
For they all harbour the secret that she had failed to keep...
But they bleed alone.
The girl with the crimson blood is her name to us
The one who cries as she races down these ancient corridors
The one with the icy black hair
The one with the laugh
The only one with the laugh
The girl with the crimson blood is invisible to them
The girl with the cuts
The girl with the harsh words
The one who won't let down her guard
I'm the only one, the only one, to chase her to urge her to let it go
She's too tough. No; She's too hurt
She's too far gone; that's what they tell me as they prepare her grave
She's too far away, but she's in plain sight
Crimson Blood trickles down her throat
Crimson Blood consumes my vision
"Look at those trees" they insist
The Girl With The Cold Skin
The Girl With The Grave
The Girl With The Tomb
The Girl With The Flowers
The Girl With The Mourning Parents
"We didn't see it"; they scream
"We didn't know"; they say
"We didn't understand"; they weep
You saw the girl with the crimson blood.
You saw her bleed and you averted your gaze
You saw her lift the knife to her throat and you insisted that I took no notice.
****
This was the first poem I ever wrote...
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