by Hallelujah Talerico, she/her
I like the colour red,
I liked seeing it drip down my wrist
And I tended to wish I were dead.
I tried to ignore the thoughts in my head,
But I couldn’t resist.
I like the colour red.
I wrote down the words I hadn’t said,
A quiet hymn that ceased to exist,
As I tended to wish I were dead.
Haunted by whispers, by dread,
My dreams of dying, a shroud, a mist.
I like the colour red
In my childhood bed, I bled.
The sight brought me bliss.
Sometimes I still tend to wish I were dead.
Even now I see the blood spread,
The scars fade but persist.
I like the colour red
And I tended to wish I were dead.
