I cut my hand while working outside.
Blood flew like a bright red geyser.
I frantically tried to stop the bleeding
with the dirt and leaves at hand.
But nothing would work.
At first I was panicked,
then lethargy and resignation
fought with survival instincts.
Growing weaker and weaker,
I ripped off my shirt and wrapped my hand.
A steady stream of red marking my passage,
as I made my weary way inside.
My wife unwrapped the sodden shirt
and shot me a look of sudden scorn.
I looked... It wasn't bleeding!
She said, "You are such a baby!"
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