Color of Blood
The distant sound of a mother weeping,
The residual ring from tears on the floor,
Of happy times, I recall near nothing,
But the smile from a man I know no more.
From the days of youth to my now fraud shell,
The color of blood still lingers around.
Twin scars reminds me of my mother in Hell,
And the tears spreading in puddles abound.
The color of blood dyed into my hair,
Eyes, twin windows, to see blood in my soul.
They are the crosses which I'm bound to bear,
For the forbidden taboo where I'm the foal.
In an endless world I trekked out alone,
Seeking helpless for somewhere called home.
A place where taboos are rarely made known,
A location where I can freely roam.
A fire, an apple, a cardinal's head,
A concept hard, yet it slowly amends.
Fresh blood is not the only thing red,
It's a lesson learnt from valuable friends.
The distant sound of a mother weeping,
The residual ring from tears on the floor,
Of happy times, I recall near nothing,
But the smile from a man I know no more.
From the days of youth to my now fraud shell,
The color of blood still lingers around.
Twin scars reminds me of my mother in Hell,
And the tears spreading in puddles abound.
The color of blood dyed into my hair,
Eyes, twin windows, to see blood in my soul.
They are the crosses which I'm bound to bear,
For the forbidden taboo where I'm the foal.
In an endless world I trekked out alone,
Seeking helpless for somewhere called home.
A place where taboos are rarely made known,
A location where I can freely roam.
A fire, an apple, a cardinal's head,
A concept hard, yet it slowly amends.
Fresh blood is not the only thing red,
It's a lesson learnt from valuable friends.