Stained in Red

The crisp crunch of the dead fallen leaves crunched under her boots,

Silencing everything else around.

She looked down at her red blistered hands,

But they weren't red from the wind, snow, or cold,

They were forever stained red in her mind.

She was stained forever in red.

Although others cannot see it, she can.

She's the one that has to live with going to sleep at night, awoken by screaming, haunting, memories,

Memories that will never let her rest.

She questioned how she could do such a thing.

She walked through the woods and looked around, searching for all the life,

All the life afraid of her,

hiding their faces from sight.

Even animals are afraid of her.

She looked down, again only seeing her hands forever stained in red.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741