Dystopia

Roses are blue when seen with oppressed eyes

and the colour spectrum loses its grip on the mind
We were warned but we chose lies
We search for the colour of our children
But find their bones and thighs
Their last wish spread over them like a rumour
We slip prayer whispers into our cries
Though we’ve been told God is deaf and blind
We hope our stench will reach the skies

Roses are blue when seen with oppressed eyes

LARDO