Ever red

by PeriwinkleGeo

pexels-photo-28482

My fists rage against the glass,
beating into reflections looking on
with vacant stares, unmoving.

I’m screaming when they point at me.
Were I a portrait of some magnitude,
they might show me a tide.

Could I turn this window into a mirror,
they might scream against my cage,
but they are not the kindred I call for.

Weariness walks in my stride,
and their gazes wander again.
Ever searching, for ever red.

Someone comes in,
cleans my fingerprints off the glass,
and vanishes as I begin again.

AutomaticPoetry
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