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.