red
          the colour that I like to wear
          the colour on my lips
          but when I dress up it’s assumed
          that I’m asking for it.
red
          the colour of the dress on me
          when I’m pulled out of class
          ‘cause “boys just can’t control themselves”
          and I’m the one to blame.
red
          the rose that falls onto the ground
          after I reject him
          I’m either called a prude or whore
          there is no in between.
red
          the colour of the wine I sip
          a pill lurking within
          his shirt when he’s on top of me
          nobody comes to help.
red
          the colour of the firetruck
          that speedily arrives
          I shout “fire!” and the fish all come
          but “rape?” There’s not a bite.
red
          the apple of my innocence
          the cherry plucked away
          after it’s gone, I’m damaged goods
          undesirable now.
red
          the colour of the jerseys of
          the team that I can’t join
          the car I’m not allowed to drive
          'cause I’m incompetent.
red
          insults spray-painted on my door
          when I assert myself
          they laugh at me and tell me that
          I’m bossy and frigid.
red
          the lines on the pregnancy test
          a harbinger of pain
          I take a maternity leave
          it’s “unmanly” for guys.
red
          is my termination notice
          when I get back to work
          apparently for something else
          but I know it’s a lie.
red
          the sprinkles on the cake I bake
          the clothing that I wash
          my life has only one purpose:
          be someone else’s wife.
red
          the mark that blossoms on my cheek
          when he decides to strike
          'cause I did not agree with him
          did not submit to him.
red
          staining my vision when I die
          killed in the gendercide
          I guess this means it’s over now
          before I’ve lived my life.
red
          the crisp foliage of autumn
          velvet clouds in the sky
          this colour could be beautiful
but
          it’s not. I wonder why.