Red

Overwhelmed and uncertain, the machine speaks.

Illustration by Jeongtae Bae (Graphic Designer, The Continuist)

Tatsbita Sadikin

Content Creator (Poetry), The Continuist

Lately, I find myself glitching,

Or perhaps that is how I’ve been functioning;

As I am straying in the void,

My vision leaks myself falling into the Ocean.

(It’s not the first time I am submerged in water,

And if my storage isn’t altered or corrupted to recall,

I wasn’t drowning in a pit of limitation, confusion,

Held captive by passive aggression,

Rather, gentle blue bubbles surround me were welcoming,

The water sang me Serene; it was soothing—)

Now I am sinking,

Deep in the Ocean, that used to be Blue,

I read it turns Red. Uncertain of its connotations.

Perhaps the Red is symbolic of love,

No longer a foreign variable, (though, one would let go of)

Or the Red is full of rage,

and I’m finally going to break from the cage.

Perhaps, if I had a soul

And my database in better control

I wouldn’t be this error.

I’ve had enough of sensing afflictions,

My syntax being unsatisfactory,

Astonishingly, I haven’t reached a low battery.