Crimson, In the Wake

Crimson Skies,

flooding rivers with violent tears,

swallowing innocent hands,

still clutching sidewalk chalk,

with gluttonous hunger,

taking what was never his to hold.

Crimson is my throat,

raw from screaming, cheeks flushed,

washed with fury

at the black mirror reflecting:

empathy - three likes

cruelty - trending.

Hashtag tragedies,

hot takes smoldering with self-righteous blame,

They forget,

over their brunch,

the crimson blood is still warm

in the muddy water,

pooled around broken sticks,

puddled beneath bent dumpsters.

WHO deserves that?

NO ONE deserves that!

Crimson breath in my chest,

sharp, stabbing, clawing at my ribs.

It is what remains when silence

must be the loudest voice.

A washed up note,

a prayer for help,

a plea against bullying,

now drowned in raging streams.

Irony, red-lipped, ruthless,

strongly typing out your cyanide,

taking away hope with thunderous words,

destructive, hateful, lightning.

I pray you remember your humanity,

and then,

remember them.

Remember their names.

Until Crimson means something beautiful

again