Crowded by Blood

Odd, this, the red skin shame.

Clans of others…

with roots deeply, weakened by transgressions.

That appear hunted like game.

Had my blood been a search part for organic matter.

A reason to mimic heritage.

But, surely, that would be treason alone.

Or, perchance, within a tribe…the coming of age.

Dreams of nature would cultivate.

Would suffice.

Yet, amassed in blame.

No authority to believe my soul of privilege.

Alone but crowded by blood.

Only shame.

blood 3

blood 2