I see the blood in your veins
As you look me in the eye
Metaphorically, because you don't
Have eyes,
Or theoretically, because you don't exist?
Nineteen years and I still
Find myself clawing
At that gray patch of sky
Six feet above
Nineteen years, and all my blood
Beats perfectly in sync with yours
Programmed, metric
The heart of the company
Nineteen years,
And the stains of ink blotting
Lines and stanzas on my page
Feel too much to bear
Like birds in the wind
Tumbleweeds
Like the maltodextrin nightmare
Bleeding from the scrape on my knee
Like the words I didn't say
Couldn't say
Dear Audience,
The last of myself
I may ever bear witness to
Bled out in the arms of a
Character I played