Pleas of Futility
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    Blood

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    April 17, 2024 2:55am - 6:15am
    My blood burns; that's the simplest way to put it. 
    It breathes in what chemicals surround it, spreading sporadically like wildfire through my veins. It tries to bubble over but there's nowhere for it to run to. 
    It's poison, is what it is. It seeps into my skin, and my bones, and my brain; it mixes with the air I breathe, and is filtered on it's way out, forever staying with me. 
    Bruises, and scars, and even open wounds can't be compared to something you cannot see. Something you were born with, that was birthed in your blood. Something that lives within.
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