A needle through my vein,
and it runs, into a bag.
To be donated to someone,
someone who needs it
more than I do.
I happily give, but in return
receive two biscuits and
a bottle of water.
My body will regenerate it.
My soul will never feel it.
My life will never need it.
A bag of myself,
for someone else is given.
Appreciated it is,
as an unknown face,
that smiles on receiving.
A piece of myself is gone,
in the process of giving.