CANVAS SPILLS

Ink spills out of an ink pot

The canvas now painted bold

Red drips of my skin

Scribbles yet another story, untold

I cease to exist, yet

If you stumble upon my tale

Send it to my brother, afar

Inked in sacral red, now gone pale

Dear brother

You broke my jaw

Said I didn't speak your tongue

You broke my fragile fingers

painted in forbidden green, not saffron

You choked me, because my mind

wove threads unlike yours

Saffron this time not flamboyant green

would fade to blackened fibrils, you ensured

As you twisted the knife in my head

The same head that bowed in reverence

To the same that you bowed down to

that went by different names, with allegiance

The land, my canvas, I paint it red

But only if you would have carefully seen

Dear brother

My veins were inked just the same as yours

Neither the unholy saffron nor the forbidden green.