Bright Bottles

So many shelves filled with so many bright bottles Tantalizing concoctions to make us sparkle like our dreams Each one filled by a child’s blood Mixed with the dying strength of a crumpled woman And to no avail. The magic promised by their pain disappoints— The colors fade, the curls fall, the fabric rips And with a dying scream, they are gone With no one to mourn them No one to plead for their lives Bought at so cheap a price.