Truth and Lies: Poetry

Depth of Red

The depth of red is not measured in number
In fact, it cannot be measured at all
It is instead felt
Like you feel a cut
Or a bruise
Or even a scar
The depth of red is the teenager who wants to die
It is the abusive mother
And the drunk father
It is the people who endure a war whether it be internally or externally
It is not about the size of the cut or the scar but the simple presence of it