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She Bleeds
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July 2002 Poetry If she were a color,
she’d be red.
She bleeds.
~
If she were skin,
she’d be a wound.
She bleeds.
~
If she were happy,
she’d be lying.
She bleeds.
~
If she were alone,
she’d cut.
She bleeds.
~
Wrists of wounds,
her final escape.
She bleeds.
~
She’s gone.
Gone forever.
She bled.
~*~ Jill ~*~
This is very surreal and bittersweet tragic piece jill. Only if you look deeper, will one find the actual purpose of meaning behind her bleading.