he stared at his hands with his knees held close
his arms hugging his folded legs
the water ran red that night
his clothes providing an infinite pollution
as they held fast to his weakening frame
the mop upon his head fell in strands around his face
the deep crimson falling by his gaze
she always complained about his hair
how the dark veil covered his crystal emerald eyes
he now struggled to keep from whimpering
as the pipes shifted he involuntarily remembered:
the sadistic snickering, the suffering screams,
he tried to stray his thoughts but it just became louder,
the ghastly scene which had laid out before him
the numbness of the mind the freezing of a breath
and a frail, innocent bird broken on the ground
he saw it all
how he lost her all
so he killed them all
And all he ever saw was red; that was all
A little, ambiguous story
