What is blood?
It's the thing you write with,
the stuff we spill not caring whose it is,
only that we need our fill of it like a tick needs it to live.
We take it regardless if it is innocent or evil,
it flows through our veins;
pulsing and quicking,
with each beat of our so called heart
Some still drink
but I've had my fill of it.
Linda Brooks
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blood-10/
