The Lid

The lid stays down -
It stays on -
Then blows
And all these guts
These busy demons
Spill out.
They stick me with
Their spears
Laugh at the blood
Flows the million
Pricks that gouge the
They have me on the run.

I bleed, bleed,
Scour the floor with red
Heat, with human
Pain.  I cannot direct,
Control, can no
More be sane than
Stop this blood flow
Than bid them all
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