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Red is Dead

Red is not for love, it’s dead. The awfulness is such a dread. Blood, the darkest form of red. It makes me feel oh so dead. Life gets sucked from within me Death is thrown deep into me. I glance down at the floor I stand. A puddle of blood, not just a strand. Puddle, bowl, ocean, sea… Full of blood from you and me. Myself, I do not wish to torment, By watching this blood drop to the cement.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

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Date: 6/8/2010 9:15:00 PM
this brought a legit tear to my eye..Beautiful poem... love trevor
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