-Chris

The blood on my bed
Belongs to him
My little brother,
The red.
And if he bleeds all over again
He’s going to get whacked in the head.

A cold wash cloth is all I asked
And that too much for thee,
And so I’ll knock down your door,
And tell you to come clean.

And if Gram sees what you have done
Then ended your life will be,
For she just cleaned this one, 
And death is rewarded to thee.