why is it that
the red he pours on the battlefield
becomes the red of fearlessness
and the red of bravery?
why is it that
the red you gift a lover
becomes the red of love
and the red of devotion?
why is it that
the red dot in between my
mother’s eyebrows is the
red of culture and the red
of tradition?
tell me then,
why is it that
the red i bleed,
all over my unblemished white mattress,
all over my christened house,
all over this stigmatized world,
dirty and disgusting?
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