Seed

(Photo: Google Images)















As blood spills
It seeps
Into sands and other surfaces
Becomes seed as a blood stained rose surfaces
We know the thorns too well you see
Lost in intimacy
Used to the searing
Listening but not hearing
To the blood everyday
That drips
From lips
And limbs
And salt water tears
Rubbed into the wounds of women
From the beginning
Probably begging
The silent victims of the bomb drop
The fire fight
The lost plot
The non stop
The screaming and the jaw lock
Are the children of blood everyday
I hope the words made your jaw drop