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Too Red For Me
Too Red For Me

© Fathima Rezwan


2 Minutes   470    19

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Greedy rifles blazing, structures turned into grainy ashes

The helpless cry of orphans and estranged family qualms;

The world has indeed turned bloodshed into a celebration,

And shamelessly so flaunts its new bloody rogue shade of red. 

Talk about the blood; getting darker with every other dawn tread. 

I kneel down, my knees hurt as I do so on the cold cement,

And bow down to the holy ugliness of it all. Palms touching

Head hung low; I cry defeated; sharing the pain of the dead and violated. 

“I don’t like this shade of red”, I tell my God the secret.    

I see a kid smiling in his death, the grief of his father adamantly clings on to him. 

A wife torn apart from her other half; mourning, blaming, cursing her existence.

My secret is safe; terror terrifies me, and God knows that.

I whisper this secret again looking down from the other end of things.

The rifle is heavy as I balance its aim to my target; I don’t like this shade of red.       

Reasons fail me as I struggle to blend in with this trending addiction to bleed. 

Holding the gun closer to my body, I find a tight grip just like everyone else. 

Here I am, one among you, just like you; Donning the dark times, following the creed.

Don’t worry, my secret is safe with God. Is yours?

Terror secret blood prayer red

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