grab me by the horns and shove me into the arena
i am not your gladiator, and yet the flashes of red you tease me with make me snort and brace to charge
i thought i'd have control, but there's something about you
something about all of this that makes me howl in rage at the way it always ends
my horns pierce you,
i bring the red this time.
you cannot stop it, it's hilarious.
i am not a bull for you to control and yet...
at least the bull is seen
at least she is fed and cleaned and treated as a prize saved from a worse fate
the gladiators in the ring know their end is near when she bows her head and roars to the sky gods
the audience watching distantly doesn't realise that the dust in the air is radioactive with my own demons.
your spears and squeals of petty anger brush my coat and make it shine with the deep dark pride of a queen
so i will remain here at the epicenter of the arena awaiting the next coward shoved to my shadow
i will stomp my feet and end them
since you'd never let me slip below that.
~
About the Creator
Ruby Red
Heya friend, I'm Red!
I write poetry, so subscribe for a hint of vulnerability, some honesty and the occasional glimpse behind my mask 🌱
Taking a break from Vocal; focusing on my anthology 🫶💖
AI is not art.


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