I bleed the riddles

within the lines, 

within the stanzas

So much so that I need the words of nourishment 

to give me lively breaths 

and keep the muscle in my chest movin

One Day when I was wrong

I was attacked by the Haiku

and jumped by Terza Rima, Ode and, Tanka

Limerick bent my arm back so much that it broke 

While Ballard whispered threats in my busy ears

Telling me that I was the servant

Then as if they were hypnotized they snapped out of it

and feed me couplets, tercets, and quatrains

As they nursed me back to sleep

When I awoke the plasma was replaced with enigmas

and my body now ran off of iambic pentameter 

and onomatopoeia coursed through my veins

Now I bleed the riddle 

within the times,

within the stanzas

Never to go back to to real blood

Cause it would poison

and it would kill me.