Our blood is red

Our blood is red
Redder than the scarlet
Our children cut down
Like the fig tree.
Like the tree of life
The blood tasting marauding
Beasts
Hewed down our resilient
Mothers
In their innocence;
they were cut off
By the scarecrow
Tiny, tall, awkward
And dastardly
In their harmless sleep
The sneaky dirty
Pigs
Slit the throats of the young
Lips without iniquities
Who do not understand
The entailment of life
Young trees without
Tap roots were Hewed
Down
Their blood is
Redder
As it is
Sacrilegious
Upon the martyrs
On the brink of Sahara