by Carol Linton

The blood has congealed
No longer running like a river
No longer spurting like a fountain
It is still, hardened,
Like a ruby a - shining
I cover it up, no longer exposed
To the elements of the world
That would enter and fester
Turn from red to green
Don't want it to be seen
The seamstress sews a beautiful stitch
Straight lined perfection
Now all that is left
Is my imperfection
Of how I will always
be remembered of
How lucky I am
To be alive

PoemSamantha Schutz