vein

I sat there on a bed of stone running my fingers along groves filled with a flouresent moss. my fingers bled from clutching my sword, for I had been using it as a crutch. The moss was wet and spungy as it absorbed my blood. Veins of it turned red around the spot I touched. my eyes turned to the far side of the cave were an old forgoten psalm was written. It bled in into my heart as my eyes felt it over. I left that place, and fought as thous words.