A poem about the reality of sadness, hope, and everything in between.
Red, a shape, a color, a sound.
Red, an idea, or even a noun.
Red, a boy about twelve years old,
I met him when I was younger, he had so much soul.
His courage, his passion, his relentless desire,
You can call him a loner, you can call him a liar.
But the only truth about this kid,
Is the sad reality, he didn’t exist.
He was always there to take the pain.
I saw him on occasion, simple and plain.
When I felt lost, when I felt sad.
I saw Red, and it made me glad.
It made him happy, to see me sad,
So when I was hurt, I’d come running back.
It was hard when I couldn’t see him,
we had grown to be good friends,
But when I knew we couldn’t reason,
it was time for this story to end.
Because promises can never be broke,
It was time, for a different hope.
So I went on my way,
Never to see Red another day.
But me and Blu, will never part ways.
Because I am Blu, and Blu I will stay.
Created: Jul 21, 2010Document Media