RED

They were red,

Red with the vitality of youth,

Red passion for the fullness of life,

Throbbing red pulsing through them,

Red ready and bold,

Red love she had for him,

Red lust he had for her,

Red. They thought it better to marry,

Than to burn, burn red, red hot with desire,

Yes red,

Deep dark crimson red,

Was that red past

Filled with Red marks from a father’s fist of fury,

All he saw red,

He grew dangerously red,

Red fiery rage when,

He too became a red husband red father,

A source of red pain.

Deeply red,

Red flowing red,

And here comes the bride, red,

Comes the bride all dressed in red,

Soaking red through and through,

Red blood flowing from the daughter he raped,

Red bloody red dripping from the wife he abused,

Red, stained all red,

His hands are all red.

…………………………amare poeta