For most of its length, "Blood" reads like a speaker consumed by fury. The opening lines put anger in the body: clenched fists, white knuckles, words clawing at the throat, breath that is almost a roar but stays hushed. Then the speaker turns to threats. No hiding place exists, retribution is coming, and blood is the price. The short, hard lines and the repeated "There is no where" give it the feel of someone pacing, working themselves up, or staring down an enemy.
Then the last line changes everything. Weapons "growing out of your face" suggests the speaker may be an animal, perhaps one with fangs, tusks, or a beak, or possibly a creature like a mosquito. The judging-by-the-imagery reading is an inference, since the poem never names the speaker. Either way, the menace gets a wry, almost comic edge. The mood moves from tense and threatening to playful, as if the poem is laughing a little at its own intensity and at how hard it is to stay calm when you're built for attack.