A small poem made by me:
Red is hatred
Red is the sight of war, hate shrouding it like mist.
Red is the feeling of someone taunting you, saying you cannot
do it.
Red is the sharp touch of a fist making contact with a face.
Red is the metallic taste of blood as you bite down on your tongue, knowing the words you are about to say, would do more harm then good.
Red, is hatred.