AL17

Red Resurrected

I toil, I labour.

As the blaze of the sun

Turns into the shimmer of the moon,

The skies see me undone.

“Give us less hours!”

 

I want bread for my wife.

But I do not know her grief,

When I sell my life

For life. 

“Give us less hours!”

 

With the intensity of red - 

Red fire, red blood.

My blood.

I’ll fight.

Give us less hours.