As the wind blew with the warmth of spring

The grey darkened clouds came rolling in

I lie on my back upon the ground

Rose peddles wilting all around me

I grasp at them only to have them crumble

Like dying cells in anemic veins

And then I realized I wasn't lying on my back

I was sitting up and I wasn't on the ground

I was on my bed inside my room

And I realized those weren't rose pedals

That was me spitting blood into my hand