Sometimes confusing what we want with want we need,
and when it all falls apart;
oh, how we bleed.

Whether a steady downpour,
or a soft, subtle drip.
"I'd rather be alone right now,"
but we're together in spirit.

The silent one.
The stoic one.
The prideful one.
The hot head.
We've all been hurt before.
Oh, how we've bled.

But a stone's blood is cold,
and the darkest shade of red.
If and when it flows,
it only ever does so
slowly.

"You take care of yours,
and I'll take care of mine.
Now, if you don't mind;
please just leave me be."