My hands are on the floor.
My hands are in the blood.
My hands are covered in every choice I’ve ever made.

My eyes are closed.
My eyes can’t see.
The room is so dark, I can’t see the shape; I close my eyes.

Nothing but my silence.
I am coping with the decisions-
The blood on the floor.

My chest is bleeding.
Not my chest- my heart.
Is this my blood or yours?

My hands are on the floor.
There’s nothing on the floor.
I couldn’t find the floor.

I can’t open my eyes.
Because if the world isn’t the same,
As the way I once saw it,
I will lose my mind in all the blood.