The Furry of Curry
The spice in the curry mirrors my anger.
Angry of being a part of a race with no peace.
The small bits of red pepper scatter
Like the blood of the innocent.
An explosion of heat burns my tongue
Like the bombs do their victims.
Innocent tongues…
Who will never speak of peace
Nor taste a meal again.
Copyright © Charisse Byrd | Year Posted 2011
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