She sits here to write a poem about the color that she has subconsciously chosen for her late night, dark movie of a life; the color that consumes her train of thought.
RED is the iron taste that calms her brain and her sick, hungry craving.
RED is her rage fueled violence that sends her raving.
RED is the chains of love that tie her to the dead man that holds her close.
RED is the remains of her many loved ones overdose.  
RED is the sounds of dark creatures in her room while she fights drowsy consciousness.
RED is the flashing lights arriving at her house to relieve her family of suicidal drama.
RED was her liquid cure to trauma.
RED is the hospitals unforgiving smell of the broken minded girl, in dire need to forget the RED sticky liquid in her hands.
RED is what she feels when no one understands.
RED is the devils strong words manipulating her movements.
RED is the crackling fire preventing her of improvements, it sends her too much joy.
RED is the lipstick that covers her when she pretends to smile.
RED is the lines that begins to pile upon her skin while she deals with the misery she’s living in. She writes her poetry to keep her sane,
Take the bad thoughts, and remove them from her brain.  
To share them with others helps her know that someone cares, because the thought of being alone is the only thing that scares her.
Abandonment has sent her down this path so when she portrays violence, it’s a much perfected craft,
She wants to keep her friends but she just pushes them away because who would like to stay with the girl filled with rage.
What’s sad about this story is that the story is true,
And this story is mine, it’s nothing new. But now you know all my baggage and cracks that keeps me away from the rest of the pack.
I’m an outcast and a liar to say that I’m fine, but the movie that I made with this color is truly divine.
Please don’t worry my dear, I’m getting better with time.
This poem is the past and I’m in the world of new so maybe my next movie in Technicolor would be best if it was BLUE.