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A Poem called Red
March 26, 2015
Red
It came like mist
Frolicked throughout the wings
I am unimpressed; incapable
I look at these tattered strips of film
Where is the medicine? Where are the pills?
My hands seem to disappear
I seem to reappear
Crying, crying, why are you crying?
You know how it makes your makeup run
It leaves grisly spider silk trails along the lines of your face
There is no use for such an emotion
There is no use at all
I look to the wall and
All I see is red, red tatters, red strips
Red upon red
© Robyn R., Middleton, WI
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