Who the hell am I
Investigating horror, and disgrace
With violence hanging in the air
Raising the dew point, in this place
Red walls dripping
Parts of people torn, and misplaced
Some call it work -
The stench, of rotting corpse's
Fly's mingle, over pools of Red
The remnants of mortal remains
The color of power
The color of live -
Here, just stillness, and disbelieve
From the terror, for now, is over for them
The pain remains, for the family's, friends, and
First responders who try, and
Make since of this seen
Trying to un-see, this new memory
Of RED
T. Plotz
Red(Dark)
NOV 19,2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem