red tape, red tents, red blood, red lines

"Practice Some Self-Regulation!"
You'd say—

As if inside me there’s a tiny senate,
Bureaucrats stamp forms, chasing signatures
To approve new policies:
Two men to a tent,
To cut costs—and throats—in war.

Self-regulation? You say I should practice it?
My emotions measured,
Against cost-benefit charts—
Too much, too little, dismissed as red tape?
But my feelings aren’t obstacles—
They open the door to my heart.

For millennia, my dear, remember,
Humanity has bound heartstrings in double knots—
Building families, villages, towns,
Even countries, long before we were born.
Back when a woman’s heart could lead,
Through the imprints of her children.
Children she bore, fed, trained—
Taught to rise when she called.

And they answered, for her love,
For it was only because of her
That there was something worth protecting—
No red dotted line ever signed,
No memo sent.

She didn’t "Practice Self-Regulation,"
And neither will I.