Categories > Original > Poetry > The little book of poems online
Crimson
Crimson is the color of a single petal,
Falling from a dying rose,
Also 'tis the color of the stains,
Which never shall go away,
Stains on the sheets,
Stains on the rug,
Pools of blood gather at the bottom of a snowy hill,
Snow melts as warm blood hits it,
A pale child chokes on her last breath,
A final farewell never passed her lips,
A blade lays near her hand,
Next to a sheet of paper,
Which tells us all goodbye,
Blood is crimson,
Tears are clear,
Love is invisible,
Was it ever even there?
Crimson is the color of a single petal,
Falling from a dying rose,
Also 'tis the color of the stains,
Which never shall go away,
Stains on the sheets,
Stains on the rug,
Pools of blood gather at the bottom of a snowy hill,
Snow melts as warm blood hits it,
A pale child chokes on her last breath,
A final farewell never passed her lips,
A blade lays near her hand,
Next to a sheet of paper,
Which tells us all goodbye,
Blood is crimson,
Tears are clear,
Love is invisible,
Was it ever even there?
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