Blood pools at your feet, it is yours
And you feel nothing
Watching as it swirls down the drain
This is who you are
You are a victim
You take hits
You bleed dry

Blood pools at your feet, it isn't yours
And you are screaming
Sobbing as you scrub it off
This is not you
You are not a fighter (but you fought)
You do not hit back (but your knuckles are bruised)
You do not heal (but scabs are forming)