If Not For The Wind

What it was and what it is.
What is blood when blown in the wind? 
Spitting its way into the world,
it captures the eye of an unexpecting girl.


She is curious, but does that also mean bold?
She somehow feels warmth against the harsh cold.
Perhaps it's the warmth that once belonged to the lost red?
Or the burning curiosity that ignites inside her head? 


Whatever the cause, it's painfully consuming.
She turns away, but the sight is still looming.
She feels the fear of that which is lost.
The wandering coagulation that must leave for rot.


She knows it's not fair; 
The red in the hair. 
But blood is the life which is taken without care.


Hot then cold.
Curious or bold?
Live and let die?
Smile then cry.
Bittersweet blood, you're now free.
Fly.