Red, Red, Red
Everyone thinks I am a happy sweet red girl.
Red like freshly picked strawberries,
But inside is like a hot red chilli pepper.
People think I am like a Red Northern Cardinal,
Soaring through life.
I can feel that way,
But mostly I feel like I am trudging through bright red raspberry jam.
Red like flames in the bonfire at summer camp.
But all of a sudden,
I have these bursts that I want to paint the town red.
Or feel strong and wise,
Like antique deep red theatre curtains.
They may see me as a young fragile ladybug,
But I feel like an angry red lobster,
Is constantly pinching me with its outrageously sharp claws.
Red, Red, Red.
Red like a strong beautiful poppy.
I feel ashamed to show who I really am.
Because when I do have these moments,
it’s like someone sticks a huge bold red stop sign in front of me,
which brings me to a halt.
I wish there could be a bright red emergency stop switch in me.
Do they know the real me?
And
Can I be myself?
Aurelia, Year 5
