Bled It Black

I blinked and was cut by a knife
i bled, i bled, bled it black
black i bled and the blood was mine.
though i couldn’t help to wonder
that blood should have been red forever,
when i’d die, only thn it’d change this colour,
black it’d become turning deeper and deeper
as l’d lay there… getting colder and colder.
It should be black when i die,
but i’m alive…. am not i?
I’ve been living it, whatever it is.
you were there in it
i could feel you so livid,
me with you in all your needs
was all i needed,may always need.
but seems u’ve disappeard all of a sudden
were u produced out of thin air, an apparition…?
Is it illusion? Was i living a lie…?
tell me, Do i always have to bleed
to know if i’m alive…?

This is a piece I wrote in my toughest time–when i faced faith being broken for the first time–almost 5-6 years back. I remember all of it. But somehow it doesn’t hurt that bad.

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