Ever the prey, capture is a different kind of death you learn.
Shame, panic, terror. Crimson drops of blood make art on the ground, your blood, but the art is co-signed.
Gone in a breath, carried away in the ash remaining after the light has stopped shining through a window you swear this cell didn’t have before. Pull up, legs through, you’re free, or at least out. You don’t run though, they would expect that. You stop without freezing, just a pause. You gather your ribbons and stones and allow the path to be revealed. Bloodshed is never for nothing.
Eyes closed in reverence now, your footsteps sink into the earth hallowed by your sacrifice, your blood, the pulse it carried seeps deep. Beats in time with the dark beneath it all.
Your fingertips reach of their own volition to the ground and swirl the new color that has been made here. It looks like burgundy but not quite. Red and brown, yes, but also the black of shadows. It will need a new name.
Finger painting down your body, it seeps back in, yours but different. Pulse of your life, infinite depths of earth, darkest shadows from your time below. You are safe to be wild.
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