top of page
Search
  • Writer's pictureJulie Chen

Red

I was the color of strength and honor

the knight’s raised shield, protecting a child.

I was the one who brought luck and prosperity

the calligraphed banner pasted beside a door on New Year’s Eve.

I was the one others bowed down to

the flowing, scarlet cape of a highly-ranked Spartan.


But that was once upon a time.


I am the color of fear and panic

the roaring, crackling wildfire, ravaging abandoned homes.

I am the one who silently screams danger

the wailing ambulance siren that cries for a lost life.

I am the one that makes others back away

the growing pool of crimson staining white tiles.


I didn’t choose my identity.

Has anyone ever thought

maybe I’m just misunderstood?

9 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

I am a deceivingly delicate rose, with razor-sharp thorns and a long, elegant stem. I wonder if I have brightened the world’s light, or if I have dimmed its already faint glow. I hear millions of voic

Trigger Warning: This post contains references to depression and self-harm. Euthanasia: the practice of killing someone who is very ill and will never get better in order to end their suffering, usual

“Waigong, smoking is bad,” my squeaky six-year-old voice protested as my grandfather lit a cigarette while we waited for the school bus. He looked up from his lighter, an amused smile making its way a

bottom of page