Blood
drips down and pools in little eddies—
swirls of life.
Warm. Metallic. Salty.
Tarns of crimson cradled in stone.
A cup to catch the ransom
for our life.
–
–
–
Blood
drips down and pools in little eddies—
swirls of life.
Warm. Metallic. Salty.
Tarns of crimson cradled in stone.
A cup to catch the ransom
for our life.
–
–
–