Note: this is REALLY short, but it's special to me, because my friend wrote it ^^ AND he gave it to me saying, "blah blah blah you can share it blah blah, but my name needs to be mention blah blah blah" SO, Dante wrote this..not me.. :)

Let the blood run through my fingers, that was soft like a new born, yet dirty like the bottom of a fiver year old's shoes.

Let the blood run down my bruise arms, that had been cut up open in every shape, and form. Therefore, some of the red liquid will sink into my open wounds, and travel throughout my body.

Let the blood go down my purple stomach, that has been kick, punch, burn, and mark. Red marks are claiming my torso, and they will never go away. They just lay there, showing that I had been claim.

Let the blood run down my fragile legs, that has been bend in every directions. The dirty hands still leave their presence, and their scent. If you look closer you can see marks in my inner thighs, that are never close.

The rest of the blood flows down my feet, thus a puddle of blood is form. My body is torn, and numb. The warm blood is the only warmth I get, besides you. When it runs, it's like all my pain, and sins are just slowly leaving my body. Although, it will come back again. The puddle rumbles, and the walls are sinking in.

My blood is scared, so they run up my thighs, swirls around my legs, up my stomach, than spilt into two directions up my arms. At last, they go back into my open fingers. I slowly walk towards the bed, and lay there. You enter the room, and everything is still. My veins aren't pumping, my mind is frozen. I count the number of cracks on the broken wall, and I fall into a deep sleep. I'll wait until you leave, than my blood would will leave my body yet again. To warm me up, and to remind me that I'm still here.

u like? He said he wrote this from 'past" experiences..