Bleeding

Bleeding

Here I lay gently bleeding, bleeding, and needing another day.

Perhaps my dream, misleading as it may,

Is the cause of those reaping and defeating their own dismay.

Instead it moves the fates and causes sway.

Now played out before me comes the man made from clay.

He too is bleeding, bleeding and needing another day,

Yet he does not mourn in the same way.

But rather he waits and basks in the ray,

He laughs and rejoices with those too that are gay,

And still I lay here bleeding, bleeding, and needing another day.