Red the color of the rose pegged on my door showing it's true love became the red that I came to know as the cuts on my wrist. No ofc not I ment to say drawings. Which is to say the roses I drew on my wrist.
Red the color of bright red lipstick. A color a mother shall play out for love. Like a play in Broadway. Came to be the color of death. A mere remembrance of the life I so yearn for. Moreover the feeling of chills down my spine as if it were a storm.
Red the color of fire. That which is known as the burning hells that fence with my arms only here evil always wins