See my red dress that was torn during our fall.
The tear through spacetime fabric, fight to regain control.
I see them all walk by, their noses upturned high.
Our cries fall on deaf ears, too proud to match our eyes.
All torn down.
For no reason, it’s not the season.
Gather the legion before me now.
I look around me and we’re not the same as we used to be.
We are bruised and we are wounded, slaves to the factories.
Reignite your passion in the fashion that you want to be,
I once was red, but now I am black and blue.
All for you.
I ride the black horse,
Standard bearer azure.
Categories: Creative Writing