Dark Poetry

Dark Poetry

His Blood

By Sam Sawdey

With his fate i drew a line of blood down his cheak
i wrote the with the gridling life of this freak

the salt faced blood seeps down his chest
it lays on the glass floor, near his foot it rests

his blood of pain never arose from a gash
it simply came from his hard cried tears of brain cells crash

he cries more than tears of a heart ache
more like a man in the mirror he sees whose a fake

i sowed his eyes to the weaken virgin soil
while i put out him out of his misery
as i slit his neck with barbed wire coil

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