He writes like he is touching his words piece by piece... Hurting this way everything near him... With Blood Red ink... And for the ones he loves and the ones he hates... Always the same technique... White and red, pure White and scarlet red... But in the end he met someone... Only then he learned to use the colours... Everything other than white and red.
Lights,shadows,fog... And i see people... Too many people... Frightened,concerned... Of course,i can see clearly now... I keep those pictures to fool myself... One reason for my broken emotions...
Yes,i was there... The small red rose gave colour to her life and death... And she... She was beautiful, smiling in that old grey picture...Doomed to live there in eternity... You want to know what i did? I kneeled and lit her candle one more time...