Bitten Poem by Joseph Cross
Bitten
The blood flows from the open wound,
Where tongue was bitten and pain ensued.
Down my throat the life blood spreads,
My stomach aches, I get weak in the head.
The hot, red flow moves on and out,
My clothing tinged red, my heart finds draught.
The pain burns on, a nail through flesh,
Yet the wound so red, no longer is fresh.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
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4/26/2024 5:37:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
