Ficlets

Even Prometheus Bled...

Fire never held the interest for me,
Its dwindling life,
Its shallow, transparent little existence,
Always tied,
Its always been in the blood for me.
Deep and rich and thick,
Ancient and tainted,
Full of a million little bits we should never see,
Something evil,
Something you just shouldn’t see.
Nobody should know the colour of their own blood.

View this story's 3 comments.