.Off Record.

[i_just_float]

Layer upon layer of construction paper,
Aiming to
Make miniature men
Hold hands
By executing precise little
Snips and slices.
But,
Safety scissors slid
Off of
Her formation.

Brilliant crimson rays of bloodlight,
Trickling from her innocent forefinger.
Dainty digit with
Visible vein coils,
Springing outward;
Like the innards of a detonated ordnance.
The shock of pain cursed her mute.
But she drove on,
Alone.

Bound her
Injured extremity
In tissue paper.
Tearless,
She squeezed the wound to dusk.
A living casualty,
She was
Merely an art martyr.

This was her first battle scar.