Blood Moon

In the blood moon
that only comes once a year,
we are shadows
slowly dancing in scarlet.
It feels like
rebirth, and the first
color we see in this world
is warm.


We are the organs
that eventually rot.
We are embedded hearts
and lashed skin.
We are imported rugs,
and rouge lipstick.

We are worshippers
of guns and swords.
Although blood may taste
like pennies, I can assure you,
pain tastes like us.

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