please when they come for in the morning let my heart bleed out over the rose colored shirt that my breast inhabits. only my shirt loved me enough to stay close to my chest. only know if you knew the heart’s condition when it started to bleed you would need to understand my time was up. the blood, you want to know how it taste? well take stock in the taste of my heart’s pure tasting blood, one that has majesty in it.
when they come for me in the morning let the dove paint her wings with the blood of a loving man. allow time for the dove to sip on the blood of a legacy, or even better step back and watch the ascension of the dove with the blood of a king on her wing.
when they come for me in the morning, let my heart bleed.