A piece of myself left behind
To fester on that summer day
Ripped open for the sun to finally see
The rays caressing my bones for the first time
My marrow exiting its cave of flesh
I am exquisite
The rush of what blood I have left to my head
As I watch its like pour out onto a blank page
I paint a picture with it
Try to make it beautiful
In the end it is only my blood
Blood I did not choose to spill
But chose to transfigure