Crimson Thirst Poem by Richard Mainard
Crimson Thirst
I dropp to my knees,
Every time she says please.
My blood I spill,
Until she drinks her fill.
She hyponotizes me,
With every red droplet preparing to flee.
As we bleed,
We also feed.
She makes another slice,
As we listen to Thrice.
I miss a drop,
As I hear her shoulder pop.
My teeth sink in,
As the room begins to spin.
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10/31/2025 3:14:09 PM # 1.0.0
