River of Red

A poem based on a scene from a film i watched in college.

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1. River of Red

Cherry hearts burst as blossoms upon the concrete stairway, winding their crimson tendrils past imprints of soles recently made, and gently descending as Russia's own river of red. Juices flowed freely from the torn crevices inflicted upon the fallen - mere willowy shells akin to the destroyers that marched without a name, inhuman – were accusations whispered amongst the brave, whilst cowards housed themselves in corners, rolling within gunpowder and murmuring of lost times when death had never been so fluent in reaping.

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