The color red.
The color red.
My blood flows through my veins like water running down a drain. Every cut of your flesh is just one more of many pains. So you scream and yell; it doesn't mean a thing. Your ring is tainted with your blood. But you are rolling in the mud. So you pass out with the sound of every cut. You should know you are out of luck. I can feel and see your blood drip to the floor. There is a nice puddle right next to the exit door. Everything goes black, and you never coming back.
About this poem
Okay. They cut into my leg to take this cyst out the size of a baseball the novocaine wore off and I couldn't do anymore so I did feel the flesh and seen the blood drip and feel it go down my leg and hit the floor I did pass out many times you don't want to hear anymore sad thing is it's true. The only thing good I did come back. They won't let me keep this poem on because of the contents which is totally true.
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Written on August 23, 2022
Submitted by alanswansea18 on December 30, 2023
Modified by alanswansea18 on December 31, 2023
- 30 sec read
- 140 Views
Quick analysis:
| Scheme | X X |
|---|---|
| Characters | 489 |
| Words | 101 |
| Stanzas | 2 |
| Stanza Lengths | 1, 1 |
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"The color red." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/177130/the-color-red.>.
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