I wish the world were blue,
It would match the mood,
Of discontented youth.
And perhaps the blood would look more beautiful,
Against the pale blue grasses,
The frozen icy waters ,
Or the skin so pale as to be white
And the only thing of color would be the blood,
And then maybe you would see how beautiful it is then.
And I would slit my wrist and poor it into glasses of palest blue,
Take photos of the only thing that holds meaning.
And perhaps if red were the only color,
And blood the only thing that were red,
You would see it as sacred and not filthy.
And then you would honor the white blue lines that grace the skin,
And every cut would be seen as a miracle instead of a curse.
And the world would be blue to fit the discontented mood,
But red would grace the discontent youth.