Written by: Timothy Yeo (Photo by: Ronald Lim)

The Red Pen began to move,

a snake,

slithering through the page,

a cold spiteful disregard

towards the tears and effort

that were carefully invested.

Swiftly marking out answers

that were products of carelessness,

moments of pure folly

and ignorant complacency.

Brutally striking out questions,

that were thought to be correctly answered,

leaving nothing but bloody scrawls,

a red mess imprinted with so much force

that it pierced right through the paper’s thin core.

Slowly coming to a still,

lurking and waiting

for another mistake to appear,

mocking him to do better,

sneering at him to give up,

because his efforts will never

be enough to get a full mark.

Once so white and innocent,

but now strewn with red disfigurements,

the page was a swirl of red,

markings that drowned the hopes

that were placed on that page.

Caught in the whirl,

twisting to get out,

only to be dragged deeper down

by the bin of fears and doubts,

as the cries for help slowly die out.

Until His Hand reached down,

pulling him out,

erasing those marks,

exchanging the page

with markings that bled red,

for a fresh new one,

one whiter than the last page.

His Hand began to move,

on that new page

He tenderly wrote.

It’s not over yet,

I have come to reclaim you

My sweet beloved child,

I have marked you with My hand,

with great purpose and plans.

So hold onto Me,

lean on Me,

trust Me.

For I made you,

and I love you

not for the answers you give,

not for the marks you’ve gotten,

but for who you are.

This marking I have made,

proudly drawing you to Me,

My dear sweet beloved child.