Up there, dark and horrifying yet pink skies

With golden burning fire flies.

Underneath lies a dead green meadow

With flowers creating an unknown shadow.

In that, rose petals on all the dead bodies

With the definition of brutally deceased lives.

Now I wanna go with the all I have sufficed

With the love of people I made die.

Nothing much just blood dripping off the knife.

But damn these flowers are bringing me back to the life.