Red Hands
A Poem About the Cruelty of Loving People
By José Pena SañchezPublished 5 years ago • 1 min read
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Sorry if this image makes you queasy. It is not real blood.
Destroyed by the image of black and gray
We kill with our hands up in the air
We slay the devils of this lair
Spill the blood of angles on the floor
While the holy dove nests in our hair
What has this world become
When blood is drawn from one
When we stab our neighbors on their backs
When we live in a world of black
When our love does not go far
When we are dirty within our hearts
We do live in a world of black and gray
But our hands…
Our hands are red.
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