003: Wall Painting in Taint

“Why is it red?”

“I once painted my walls red,
Don’t ask me why.”

“I can’t help but pry.
Just give me at least one good alibi.”

“I painted my walls red,
In memory of the wilted roses on my bed.

I painted my walls red,
For all the blood I didn’t shed.

I painted my walls red,
For all the green and gold that was lost in between their stead.

I painted my walls red,
So the Red Queen won’t chop off my head.”

“Is there a color for hunger or dread?
Are we keeping these walls red?
Are colors meant to be rigid or fluid?
Did colors divide us? Unify or identify?”

“Are you also painting your walls?
Which spectrum does it fall?”

“I’m conflicted with all the smörgåsbord of colors offered and prepared.”

“All I know is, repainting is a heavy chore.
Remember the 20-year marathon they’ve endured?
Do you really want to experience a 6-year encore?

Are we really going to paint the whole town red?”