In Red
Holding on the handle of my soul
Which paints itself in red.
Was never what I expected I'd be doing.
My and its life have been far apart,
Seriously what was I really searching for?
It was dull for many years and still is, but
Recently I think it is gradually getting sharper and sharper.
As if I can cut my darkness and my light,
Painting it red is I think my hope.
But is that what my soul want to do?
Just getting sharp for freedom
Or is it Justice?
Or is it just because for my soul's selfishness?
Though I've been thinking,
What does it want to erase?
My past?
My Present?
Is the answer to help my future?
To myself I have been wandering for quiet a time.
The timeless space that I've been enduring.
But was that really necessary?
To put lots of effort into my choice that I thought would have been correct.
But look at me now, I'm stranded alone, like in a red room.
After making such mistake, the things that I wanted to forget back fired.
Was it worth sharpening my soul?
Does stabbing such sharp soul to my problems hurt?
Would my soul be soaked in red?
Would that mean I'm soaked with shame?
The shame I wanted to erase?
The sharpened soul I shall curse.
Should be sheathed in its scabbard,
It shall sleep until,
The next time it needs to be used.
The next time when it needs to erase something.
The next time when it needs to be soaked in red.