Red

• Rhaya Abdelal, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2017

Red,
the colour of the blood that stains the floor
after every cut she made into my once perfect, pale skin.
Red,
the colour of her eyes,
after hours of tears that fall.
Red,
the colour of her ruby lipstick that’s now smudged,
after constant screams that,
rise up from the pit of her stomach
and tumble past her lips,
out into the emptiness of the world.

She sat on the bathroom floor,
the beautiful crimson red surrounding me,
wondering why it always hurts.
Why, even after she thought
that the small carvings she made up my arms would stop the pain,
it was still there.