Sometimes I saw my blood <br />Drain out at the prick of a needle <br />My blood was draining out <br />As money was draining in; <br />I was selling my blood for money. <br />The nurse said I had excess blood, <br />Whether she told the truth <br />Or lied to get me part with a pint or two <br />I cannot tell, <br />But of what use was blood to me <br />When I was dying of hunger? <br />I agreed to sell that <br />Dark red fluid in my veins; <br />That rich red rumble of liquid <br />Filled their plastic bag; <br />I saw the vampires smile and praise <br />The quality - your's is rich, they say. <br />I am impatient; all I want is money, and <br />Soon enough they count me two notes; <br />I look at the sum - the price of blood. <br />They say blood is life, <br />But I have traded it here for money; <br />Does that mean that my life is priced? <br />Perhaps - if I cannot eat <br />Food bought with money <br />I will certainly die.<br /><br />samuel nze<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-sold-my-blood-for-money/
