INK.

My palms
Covered
With this morbid liquid.
Spilling out of my soul
Onto the ground.
My knees hit the ground.
Bones
 -shattered.
Warm streaks
Reconstruct my face.
Making it a mask of what was.
The deadly wound
Gushes
And washes everything out of me.
A purge.
The ground
 White as snow.
Is now filled
With the contents of my being.
                                                              As I bleed ink.