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.