Heres a poem bc I'm bored
The blood that is shed is beautiful
It is a shimmering crimson that shines perfectly in the setting sun
As night takes over the sky, the stars reflect in the puddle
It is a gorgeous red that stains the fingertips of all those who dare to touch it
A hypnotic pool, luring all those who who dare to gaze upon it into a trance
A violent mess that entraps those foolish enough to involve themselves with it
The blood that is shed is not beautiful
It was never crimson, it is just red.











