Sometimes, the idea of certain things
travel up to Mars and an entire other galaxy
but only to reveal they are a boomerang.
Sometimes, the vision envisions seeing Mars,
not with the red dust and dirt,
but the redness of it all:
like the red that reeks from within you,
scaling up and down until the floor pools,
and a single tear full of hope and happiness falls.
Sometimes, the boomerang comes back and hits so strong
that the only vision sought is
completely botched up.
For the bloodline to run dry,
for the screams to remember
what was never to be done,
for a memory to be remembered
of a lady who walked out of fire,
hoped and prophesied to be dead,
but she had dragons
and burned the city down,
until the very vengeance she sought
killed her at the end.
I now understand
why she washed her hair
in evil's blood.
