The Cost of Stone, by Mark Latif

Untitled, by Zdzisław Beksiński (Poland) c. 1980s?

 The Cost of Stone

A lone cathedral stands before me,
Enslaving my gaze.
It glows with the ghastly red of rust… 

Or rather, I wish it was rust, for its hue
Is of a far more vile scarlet.

The crimson of bleeding bodies,
Flayed raw from the shrapnel of M24s.

The masses believe this cruel construct is of brick and mortar.
It is not.

It is of unfortunate men.

Whose flesh and bone was deemed cheaper
Then the red clay of the earth. 

​Mark Latif

Mark Latif: "I was Born in Egypt in 2002, and lived there for 11 years until I moved to America in early 2014. I had generally lived a peaceful and enjoyable life despite my diagnosis of hemophilia. I am currently a college freshman studying in the hopes of one day becoming a doctor specializing in blood diseases, just like the ones who help me with my condition."