Flowing Poem by Andrea Kelly

Flowing out, through your skin
Beads of red always win.
Shedding blood, never end
Habits tend, hearts don't mend.

I bleed, the outer layer,
And how can this be fair,
they say that this is rare,
But all they do is stare

And I can't remember
From the last December,
When all you held was her,
To me it's just a blur.

The problems, they expand.
In my sight, there's no land.
Reach out, give me your hand.
I think I can see sand.