I need to write. <br />I think I want to write. <br />I hurt my knee tonight <br />and the blood leaked out, red. <br />It was dark like pomegranate or apple, <br /> the forbidden fruit. <br />Blood must be the color of sin <br />and the color stuck in my head. <br />It flows in my head; <br />in my heart of heart it flows, the red pumps in. <br /> <br />I wonder whose seen such red. <br />Red showered across battlefields. <br />Those shed too much red are dead, <br />some red on their own hands or walls. <br />Too much sin and you're out, <br />a lifetime of strikes. <br />The game I thought about, <br />the 'necessary evil' of war and torture, <br />How communal is the red sin <br />that even my heart of hearts pumps red in. <br /> <br />And out. <br />The red flows out. <br />My blood is a whisper from a shout <br />and the red turns blue fast. <br />Blue is the sea, and what it means to me <br />is calm but changing; whose changing? <br />Red goes in and out <br />And I thought about, <br />when you 'can't have the good without the bad' <br />If the world worked like it should, <br />we'd know it was good. <br /> <br />Like your taste buds know sweet without sour. <br />I'm full of red and <br />I need it to live. <br />But it will not change <br />Unless I put the bandage on, if I have the power, <br />change a bleeding world, to stop this sin <br />that's swirling in me, pouring out. <br />Red comes, hear it shout, <br />as my heart of hearts pumps red sin back in.<br /><br />Delilah Miller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/heart-of-hearts-2/
