Sunlight shining crimson red sign of pure chaos is said by the tree of life.
We are bleeding but no one watches us wishing we would just burn off like the rest.
Restless, breathless as we lay on the ground.
Or should I say disintegrated like petals in the summer sun dying for more warmth even though they can't take it they still burn.
What is at risk if it all dies while looking for a new life just like the crimson that cursed our sun.
Is it really worth it the constant fear of content to the blaze of the summer winds.
We see beauty when it is really corrosion around a circle of pain.
Feathers fall harder on people than depression do think you can carry that too.
Think of society as a page in a book the more you turn it the more you learn and the more you start to guess.
And eventually you will see how worn and torn it could be.

Just like the crimson cursed tree

That we see

As a beauty