Puddles of deep crimson crawl laterally - as if that bright dot was the wound
At the periphery, all the hues of bruising - indigo to a shade of purple indistinguishable from black
The colors tuned up by the heat of inflammation felt - but not seen - in the cold view of one beaten to the edge of life
As well as, by the harsh lighting - blues and reds dancing from lightbars and wig-wags of police cars and fire trucks - shining over the carnage.
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