Red

Wallace Branin

 

I am twisted
Face carved into a snarl
Shoulders rigid striding dangerously
Eyes clouded by crimson
Deflecting all words and touches
In this moment this is me
Frightened by myself
Unsure of my actions
Driven by hurt and pride
Mouth spilling hate
Words crafted to cut, to slice
I see them take effect
And I smile
I am twisted, contorted
By emotions stronger than me
And its only now that they’ve died
That I’m able to realize
What they were born from