They say it runs through me

They say it runs through me. They say it defines me.

I’ve seen it slip out of me in times of pain.

And hide, (like a coward) in times of true tribulation.

There is blue blood. There is warm blood.

There is your blood and my blood.

There’s also –apparently- the right blood and the wrong blood.

All I know is I bleed. And you bleed.

All I know is it thumps through my head when I am frightened.

Through my heart when I am scared.

It boils. It’s boiling right now, from anger.

It bathed my son into life.

It bathed my friend into death.

Women bleed often. Sometimes to no end

It once tried to slip from me, all together.

And sometimes, when the future seems bleak, it does it again.

My blood, your blood

Blue blood, true blood

It wears thin coat of skin.

And –apparently- it makes all the difference.