Blood might be

Blood might be

Thicker

But it still drips from

Your fingers

Drains into the sand

There is no stuffing it back in

Without a needle

In the arm

A biscuit and a cup of tea.

Nobody is pumped up

So full

They float in the air

The moon is not

A balloon

There is nothing of humour

In estrangement

It is a bloody

Pointless entanglement.

Were the brothers grimm?

Did they share a joke

Or two

As they compiled

A book of hearsay

Into a scare the children

Philosophy

Which was as plain

As the nose on your face.

There are lessons to be learned

In every story

If only we attend

To the business at hand

And suffer the blood loss.