The Blood Flow – a poem

We all bleed red.
No matter your politics,
Your net worth,
Your religion,
Your sex,
Or the color of your skin.
Whether just or unjust,
Right or wrong,
Kind or cruel,
Full of love or hate,
The bleeding is the same.
Heart-wounds pulsing
And pouring from us.
The blood flow steady as it streams.
Torn flesh, broken bones.
Bruises and abrasions.
Until life’s breath ebbs away
For each and every one.

Copyright 2014, Kat Micari