Tomato, that is my name.
I am still perplexed in this confusing world.
Before the sun kisses me and wipes off those dew,
I am still being referred to as a murderer.
Before that incandescence war,
Which the defeated weeps more,
Because many more died.
And the victors rejoice,
Because fewer died,
The same sad story, only a matter of difference in numbers.
I am still referred to as a murderer.
As if I was the referee.
Why should people go around calling me a murderer?
Oh, poor tomato, what’s my crime?
Until I heard the answer from that grey woman at the corner,
I was shocked.
Everyone is saying I have red gums.
That makes me a cannibal.
But tell me, who has white ones?