Alien

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WE tiptoe softly onto jagged pieces of glass-
To make sure we bleed- pain, they can program that, but blood,
It belongs singularly to human beings.

Thin, sharp jolts of pain impishly race through the nerves, needing to be
Acknowledged, as we smile with each preceding step.

THEY stare on, with mistaken quizzically shaped eyebrows
And indifferently judgmental scoffs-
They’re too high-seated for Science.

We might lose too much of the blood we didn’t know we had-
Maybe the glass will flutter to the heart we only suspected was there,
And slyly overtake it.

But then, at least, we’ll KNOW.

Created: Nov 21, 2010

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