It's a bittersweet feeling as the illusion seeps through.
Red runs, dribbles, streaks;
travels into the distance.
Crimson molds and darkens the stem,
corrupts the root of all that is numb.
The river flows between the northern mountains,
one catastrophy laid to rest after another.
Water dilutes the strength of pain.
also washes it away.
Another layer, dose me up
The illusion helps to breathe it out.
Black drops of intensity,
the final touch
maybe this will get the pain to stop...
Gaze at its beauty,
wash it away,
start all over; it's the only way.
Dip the pallette just once more,
Down the leg,
exile the pain.
It's all i'm asking for..
