The Red Poem
Red is beautiful.
Red can be as dark as violence,
And as light as love.
It can hold feelings of limerence,
That I am never sick of.
Red is the taste of crisp apples,
And the color of blood.
It is the aftermath of battles,
When the day is done.
Red is beautiful,
Red is wonderful.
But when the day is gone,
And when the day is dead,
We will never see it.
We never see red.
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