.:Red:.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is how I feel sometimes. Though there is no real meaning to this poem, but who knows maybe there is and its just locked up inside my heart...

Submitted: September 26, 2010

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Submitted: September 26, 2010

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What first comes to mind as you hear the word Red?


What do you picture as it dances in you head?


Perhaps a rose?


Or maybe a frost bitten nose?


For I see nothing of the sort.


When I imagine Red, what might I see?


What might I hear, smell or feel?


For when the word red dances around my head,


I see blood.


I hear ear splitting screams cutting through the wind.


I smell a boody carnage written accross the walls.


I feel pain.


Within the halls of my mind there they are, the wounded hearts and souls of these lost people that I see.


That I hear.


That I smell, decaying in a lost lonely world.


The real world is covered in this Red that I imagine, for it is not pleasant to know.


This word Red,

 This color Red is the bleeding souls of this world.


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