And so I went to the water,
To wash my wounds,
To cool my burns,
To calm my storms,
Yet still — I bled red.
And so I went to the water,
To dive for clarity,
To search for dignity,
To drown my fragility,
Yet still — I bled red.
And so I went to the water,
To find my innocence,
To forgive my insolence,
To cleanse my conscience,
Yet still — I bled red.
And so I went to the water,
And dwelled in pain,
To mend what love had broken,
To sew what had been torn,
To patch what life had scorned,
And yet — I still bled red.
This red won’t let me go.
This red has stayed.
For it is always the wounded
Who bleed—
Never the ones
Who carry the blade.
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 1:36 PM UTC
And so I went to the water,
To wash my wounds,
To cool my burns,
To calm my storms,
Yet still — I bled red.
And so I went to the water,
To dive for clarity,
To search for dignity,
To drown my fragility,
Yet still — I bled red.
And so I went to the water,
To find my innocence,
To forgive my insolence,
To cleanse my conscience,
Yet still — I bled red.
And so I went to the water,
And dwelled in pain,
To mend what love had broken,
To sew what had been torn,
To patch what life had scorned,
And yet — I still bled red.
This red won’t let me go.
This red has stayed.
For it is always the wounded
Who bleed—
Never the ones
Who carry the blade.