Rustic Red

Rustic RED

Rustic RED; My blood surges.

Hot. Flowing. Pulsating in my veins.

Expressing. Colouring the whites of my eyes.

Ruling. Defining the rage in my soul.

Rustic. It is Rustic RED.

                When the red sun pops out in the morning sky,

I am birth. I am victory.

When the red wine pours out exotic bottles,

I am rich, I am lax; I live.

When the red blood stains Earth with scars,

I am death. I destroy. I end.