The Sight of Blood

the sight of blood moves me to a
deeper realization as the alcohol wears off,
and I am nothing more
than sticks left in the rain,
a secret cancer waiting to erupt,
because there are no heroes
in a pancreas or breast
just cells. just life.
I hope I have another day.

© Ben Ditmars 2016

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Image Source: Flickr
by Categories: poetryTags: 2 Comments

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