Red, Warm, Blood.

Blood
its red and warm.
Runs down the blade
And over my hand.

He lays on the ground,
coughing and sputtering.
Theres cloth from his shirt
On the tip of my blade.

Blood stains the floor the hands
most importantley the mind.
Once you see it,once you taste it,
there is never enough.

Blood
its warm and red
Runs over my hand
And down the blade.