by Charlotte Farhan
A survivor is created through their suffering – not born,
overwhelming need for endurance becomes everything,
red drips – glistening droplets cascading down a single thorn,
petals fall like tears as the red roses are left weeping.
Asking for forgiveness from the powers that be,
Rising tall after the holy wreckage,
Seeing nothing but red; left lost with nobody,
from the crimson glow among the breakage,
Reaching for that apple; fruit of the poisonous tree
Breaking into pieces, scattering across the earth
red glass cuts; amidst the shards appears a master key
Could this be the moment of sweet release; my rebirth.
Being black and blue is nothing new,
the red remains; staining my legs,
however my strength was a breakthrough,
even if the darkness still begs.
Purity was ruined by them; they burnt me alive,
breathing is a battle; existing is trying,
nonetheless if in this redness; I can survive,
then a warrioress can break from within; crying.
Strength comes from doing whatever you can to stay alive,
crossing that red stop sign can be necessary,
blood alerts us, poppies sooth us, Red Riding Hood reminds us,
warning to all; survival is cautionary.
So when you see me and think this is madness,
remember that red is around us and pumps through our veins,
danger is present; a part of the darkness,
however survival comes from this and strength remains.
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