In Defence of Period Blood Stains

The Asur wanted the sky to be red,
To stop Him,
They sacrificed the God of Love.
Now His soul
Is stuck between my fingernails.

On the second day
Of certain full moon nights,
He wriggles out of His resting place
And draws some of His dreams
On other skies. His ancient eyes
Have read all my secrets.

I scrub at His mischief with Blue
Until it turns White again.

I scrub at His mischief
With water which was meant
To be washed down a desert.
That desert could have turned
Into a nursery for stars
But did not.

The reward for my service
Is a dusty beige cloud.
When the Devs are drunk
And the Asurs celebrate,
A similar one
Hangs above my head.

In my forest, there's no shame,
So I borrow it from the mountains.
The day they collapse
Is the day I will stop murdering
That which does not need to die.

On that day, it will rain
And the sky will be red again.