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Red on White

Red bloom on a field of white roses 

The color drips while the sink is left going 

It's much easier when life is left flowing 

He supposes 

 

You're meant to be an artist that was hand-less 

Or a string linking arms and hearts with hands in 

But tied up offering nothing but hands out hand ins

You just can't handle this 

 

Wrist kissed by a lip of love glowing 

lipstick sends the bliss of one going 

The fist clicks in to switch a slot slowly 

Metallic posies 

 

No song is left for reasoning or redress 

Save for one to those that rear and once did re dress 

A short tune to accompany the bloom 

But mostly soundless 

 

Monstera for the monster in the splash 

Lo que será nunca será alguna más 

A yellow sun rolls to gather up the run 

Red petals fast

 

Deep breaths

Ironic seeing iron fade to black 

Deep breaths

Especially from one known to bring it back 

Shallow steps

Never could grow up to finish what he lacked

It was the last

Sharp Hands

Driven