Greetings and salutations, dear readers.
So … today I wanted to attempt to write something a little more real than I have been recently. I’ve been playing around with some experimental and abstract concepts … but today felt different.
Take this poem for what you will.
brush aside the doubts, darling—can’t
look the other way anymore when blood streams down
one cheek, tears down the
other cheek. keeping your hands to yourself isn’t a virtue—it has become
damnation in a place you used to think a sanctuary.
i wouldn’t think a fighter like you would need a call to war, but
everyone has a downfall they try to keep secret.
disrupting a home will never be easy—destruction has perks
first thing in the morning.
ignorance doesn’t have the same ties anymore.
striving for a sanctuary leaves all walls struck
through with hands
that came pre-bloodied in a
homeland fight that drug you through the
red mud thick with your own blood clots. cast
out the doubt, darling—you have cast your eyes
up and down looking for a way out of your own house,
going in and out of the same door your enemy uses with a careless
hand coated in red ink from your veins. the ink that will
always carry your story through your blood supply until you find a
will to get it out. blood paints the best pictures.
always used to be your favorite color until you saw a
little too much of it splatted around a collection of cracks
left by a bloodied fist through a wall.
–Wash the Blood off Your Face, We’ve Caught Him Red Handed
Let me know what you thought. ❤
Better poems coming next week–pinky promise.
(Though I think better is relative to the reader, but oh well.)