The Color Red Poem by Minnie Gehrig

i am a deep cut,
bleeding into the pages,
they clot,
they grow wings and i soar,

the clouds are not white,
but a gray n smog filled mass of poison,
these thoughts are suicide,
or manslaughter,
i am torn,
i am broken,
n yet all this,
blood pours forth into a
beautiful and sad symphony,
it catacombs and resurrects itself,
becomes its own god/goddess,
like a record that spins off track,
out of control
the proverbial runaway train,
n i am ready to pack my bags n go,
afraid now
admittedly shaking,
beneath the touch of morning,
the drizzle slow death of it all
clock in clock out,
breathe in breathe out,
let it go,
after all its the American way,
it the red white and blue,

i am the color red,
it leaches from me,
there is no cure for it,
save giving it up
this heart still beating,
a steady rhythm,
that does not heed the short breathes,
bruised in itself,
pushing and pulling,
even as the tide,
the waves i love so much,
threaten now in there vast swells to drown us all.