Red

• Neve Tingey, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2021

Her favourite colour was red;
It was the colour she used for all.
She'd drag the crayon across the page,
Since first she learnt to crawl.

She wasn't quite sure,
When her crayon remoulded to blade.
Instead of tracing colour,
Now it trailed pain.

The blade was no longer hers,
Wedged inside a stranger.
The blood she drew was red,
Dripping down the drainer.

Caught as she finally was,
A gun against her head.
She dared them to pull the trigger,
And stain the walls in red.