Blood

The other day, I cut my leg
and the blood was red,
like my country's flag
it was livid and vivid
flowed endlessly like a good song
like a rhyming poem
like a line at the
immigration center

The other day, I cut my leg
and the blood was rose red,
and the wound stung,
bad, made me clench my
fist and bite my lips

The other day, I cut my leg
and I bleeded - bad and hard
like a journey to a country
who doesn't care you
exist