It has always been suggested
to have a count on the flow of blood ,being a slugabed.
To count the flow was nothing
but measuring the countless pain one was suffering.
Protuberance of the pain was getting unaffordable,
as this blood was all malicious , unbearable.
This red colored slut had crushed the impetus,
as it still sustains the pollutants of pain eyeing on us.
It's true to the point that blood is necessary,
but one can't live with pains which one isn't ought to carry.
The devilish flow of blood now ruptures the body,
starts acting its own way, gifting poignancy.
Transposing the contents of this deadly breathing body,
this soul container wishes to inhale as an odyssey.
Unfortunately evicted from the living world,
how can anyone dare to
expect him in this reverberatory world.