Member-only story
Bleeding Out
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A Poem
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When babies bleed,
So do our hearts.
But I cannot speak for the heartless.
They are washing the blood off the hands that committed,
Acts that are so very twisted.
Scrubbing makes blood pour forth more.
Though no longer can one ignore,
Or they shall send themselves into delusion.
They think peace is what shall find them there,
But questions do flood here.
Do those who cause destruction not fear God?
Or do they think they are God?
How wrong they are to think such.
Do they not taste the metallic tang of blood in their mouth?
Hear the sound of the bullet that was sent through the head of the innocent?
When they swung their leg for a kick to the temple,
Saw brains splattered and blood trickling onto lips?
When they bite into stolen food, do they taste flesh?
