Siblings, as seen by a mosquito

 mi-
nus-
cule.

Blood carries many things.
I taste helpless anger,
fueled by
ridicule.
From the sweet red rivers buried,
under a penetrable carpet
of young tissue.
What is this burden
of inferiority?

un-
no-
ticed.

Blood is indeed eloquent.
I taste lazy amusement,
in the face of
'quite a spectacle'.
From the rich, gushing elixir hidden
under a plump quilt
of flesh.
Why the saccharine haze
of serene solitude?

dis-
tur-
bing.

Blood might well be the Fountain of Youth.
I taste the condescending satisfaction,
of a cat toying with
its prey.
From the endless stream of strength concealed
under a thin, thin quilt
of barely-meat.
What is this shadow
growing quickl--

splat.