Blood

It drips down my cold brown skin.
In the light, it looks almost pink.
It was inside of me, and now it's not because it chose to ooze out.
But I know, deep down, that I need it, and it wants to stay in me.
I take a look at the IV bag and wonder if I should just cut it.

Then the light comes down through my window and I look.
It's bright, it's almost an angelic soft tone of cardinal yellow and marshamallow white.
I believe I can still live today.
Can you?