The colour has turned dead
Circulation ceased
Still bleeding but not red
I hang my head in shame
Eyes staring at me are tamed
Gnawing leisurely and trying
To strangle my soul and claim
That I was a sad student of Faith
Freedom and Equality. My death
Tailored according to my murderer’s needs
Condolences offered, blessings bestowed
I am packed and stored as a computer feed
The colour has turned dead
Circulation ceased
Still bleeding but not red
Remember me? I died for some
Who administered my funeral and hummed
The anthem for alleged prima donna students
They lamented next to my casket, lamented
As I was resurrected, without much ado rusticated
Before I could apply for and again try
To show the apocalyptic vision of tyranny
But they listened to none, mimed for some
And unlocked the door to tragedy
Many resurrected like me are standing high
Humming the anthem for bumbling fanatics
The colour has turned dead
Circulation ceased
Still bleeding but not red
