Blood

Blood. It drips and it flows. It pumps and it beats. It slips and slides. Down, down, down until it hits the floor with resounding SPLAT! It runs from the cut, pretty and crimson. Beautiful and drunk with it's own power to give life or take it away.
Shining wetly in the moon light, it pools at your feet, staining and coating the floor, leaving a reminder of your unbearable pain; a life so precious but so very easy to take away, So beautiful but so scary all at once. It is blood, the water of death.