Created

It falls.
The blood a blazing red.
It crashes.
The slit just below your head.
The silver point.
Now stained with blood.
Falls from your hand,
To a pile of mud.
The rain keeps puring,
Its colored blue.
The acid burns,
When it touches you.
It falls.
The blood a blazing red.
It crashes.
The slit just below your head.
Your blood is on your hands.
Not mine.
You are not real.
You were created in my mind.