The Fight
Red is anger; it is fear.
It smells like blood, sweat, and tears.
Sunsets, sunrises, red tides that fall,
The sound of the telephone call.
The piercing screams,
The furthest dreams.
Violence, crime, terror, and death.
Ambitious and cunning as Macbeth.
Of all these things, one is forgotten.
It isn't the shade of my favorite shirt of cotton.
The one thing we forget,
Is the love we fight to protect.
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