it’s red….


its in my body,

same as in yours,

the very colour of iron,

which has run it’s course.

I see it in the eyes

when they haven’t slept,

or they tell the tales of sorrow

 in which they wept.

it’s the colour of the roses,

bloomed in the summer,

it’s the final pride,

of writhing leaves in winter.

it’s in the last glimpsered-clip-art-4i9EqjzRT

when the sun sets.

also the texture,

of me friend’s pets.

glorifies the war,

along with soldier’s sweat,

contacts even those,

who haven’t still met.

it’s in the fire,

once it’s fed,

the colour of love,

the colour is


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