I'm standing knee-deep in a pool of blood
As more of it drips from my arms
I can hear is splashing thickly
Sickly
In the pool of blood that I hope against all hope
Is not my own.
Wait! There's movement!
I tense, waiting,
Waiting,
For something...
I don't know what
I see a glint of silver,
And another,
And another...
A glint of polished stainless steel
Silvery in the sick half-light
As it reflects off my blood.
I begin to slog through the pool...
It gushes as I struggle to go through it,
But it's grabbing me,
Dragging me down,
Down,
Down,
Down...
And I fall
Again
And I fall
Into the pool
Of blood
That I hope against all hope is not my own.
I try not to scream
Try not to cry.
But the blood is rushing for me,
Covering me
Drowning me
Or is it smothering me
In its sick metallic red embrace
Blood...
So much blood...
It isn't just mine...
And the walking knives,
Or are they razors...
Aren't just mine either...

They're yours too, you know.