Red is the color of blood
and the hue of love
Murder and lust
the story goes bust
Passion and pain
it's all the same
The stain of cherries
cascades bittersweet
The heart eventually
bleeds out
as the veins run dry
Screeching rats are born
from the womb of poverty
while the elite old guard
keeps denying
their own mortality
They all get to exist
before they finally die
Black is the color then
my way too temporary friends
this is outstanding.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the kind words ...The poem reflected my mood that day
DeleteWOW!
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love this poem!
Just WOW
Having read your comment above, about your mood - I still feel this is a realistic and universal poem.
Keep on writing!
Thanks Nada... I've been dealing with tenuous mortality way too much the past few months
Delete