Red

She wore red that day.

It looks good with bloodstains.

Jumbled, they yell

So loudly

‘Let me out!’

One for a thousand paths;

How can they walk without legs?

How can they talk without mouths?

How can I keep them together?

How, how, how

Can I ask all these questions?

Blocked from light

They shout

‘Get us out!’

No one came to help.

They said that they wanted to be

The old foreign voice that is she.

And they’ll speak slowly for years,

Loud, of nothing that’s clear,

Not knowing just how to be free.

She’s addicted,

Addicted,

Addicted to me.

She wore red that day.

It looks good with bloodstains.