What We Rely On

Blood. It's everywhere in literature. It symbolizes a multitude of different subjects, containing so many differing connotations. It can mean life, it can mean death. It can mean family, it can mean enemy. It might refer to an oath, it might refer to a misdone deed. For me, it is simple. It's what should be in my veins, straining to deliver me from harm. It's what is everywhere, on my hands, my legs, my face. Blood burns. I am drowning in fire, being burned by liquid. It is simple. It is just a should, escaping from its constraints. Merely. Blood.