The day is red;
It fumes and breathes -
The sky is ablaze with crimson rain
Running, bullets of acid, down
War-worn faces;
Red reads in lines across wrists -
Battle scars of
Children of war;
Can you feel the rage -
The diesel that runs in our arteries
And seeps through our skin
While the smoke we breathe
Into the lungs of our eyes
Smothers our senses
The day is burning
Bright, and turning,
Waiting,
For another day.
