Red,
Was the color of the blood running through her veins.

Red,
Was the color of her hope painted out on a thin, white canvas.

Red,
Was the color of her eyes the day you walked away.

Red,
Was the color dashed all over Gaza.

Red,
Was the color of her screams magnified as her family was gunned down.

Red,
Was the color of anger when you broke your promises.

Red,
Was the color of her parents heart when she succeeded.

Red,
Was the color that lit her whole universe,
Till the day you walked away.

I am not the author of my thoughts nor am I the poet whose poems you read.
I am only a vessel through which life exists; a witless witness of what befalls this body and mind.
Please excuse my false pride,
Forgive me my claims of titles and names.
I am merely the ghost in the machine within which I experience taste, touch, sight, smell and the chaos of clarity of mind.  
I once knew with the certainty of the lost that I was the master of this universe,
Now I bow my head in pious recognition of defeated acceptance. Life is not to be lived,
Life is to be survived.
Free will is a conception of man's need and desire for order in a land where particles too small to be seen or felt rule with the supremacy of god.
We are nothing more than fish in the sea unaware of the ebbs and flows of the ocean around us in response to a moon we cannot even conceptualize.
There is peace in that thought;
If you can accept your insignificance you will realize how little that lost love matters for what is love but a micro atomic reaction to a cosmic event that happened light years from earth,
In which you were the victim of a joke you can't even understand.