It spurts out so quickly
Dribbling and rushing down my arms
Slipping through my fingers
Stabbing out and away from me

Bursting into flowers on the floor
They seem to reach up to me
Calling that I follow them down
That I just take a moment and rest
Lay my head down upon the cold concrete floor
Of a composite world of steel and plastic and glass
Sleep they call me to sleep and never to dream

Weariness a blanket of lead upon my shoulders
As I rise from battered knees with rusting joints
Dirt and rocks fall from my skin
Where they have been imbedded, they indentations remain
Pressure point memories so that I can recall where I fell

Fingers tighten painfully, clenching against the burn
It will never go away I know but maybe
Maybe if I can keep on going
A little longer

I can leave a trail of crimson flowers
So that those following me will know
There is a way out
There is a way home

There is a way