We Are Anonymous
We Are Anonymous
Like the Mosquito
that comes to bite you
and you kill it.
Now she is a forgotten entanglement
of red and black.
But you are still scratching
the bitemark.
She hid nothing of who she is
but now she is dead.
yet the itch remains.
The itch is the question
the itch is the thought
the itch is the challenge
to care about the truth.
Do not care about her
for she will die soon.
But the truth remains forever.