Red is the color of death

Red is the color of blood
freshly spilt upon the marbled grounds,
the ribbons of liquid running freely
down crumbling staircases and blasted walls,
seeping deep into niches and cracks
‘til even the waters bleed.

Red is the color of pain,
of anguish hailing down
from a tattered sky that wails
until the scarlet sun has fallen
and the blood moon rises
and every heart has burst from grief
because hope no longer
smiles upon them.

Red is the color of poison
curdling within the minds of the fearful,
tarnishing once pure white souls
with the stains of sin and hell,
and their eyes burn with rage
and with hatred,
bounded by greed
and corruption.

Red is tainted
as it oozes from the victims,
as it screams out from the ruins of peace,
as it sweats from the fury of men.
The seething shadows overtake it
as red slowly mutates
into certain black death.