White, innocence.
Shattered innocence,
Just a facade, a pitiless fantasy.
Trapping crimson humour deep inside.
Waiting to break,
Crackling delicate paths, traced by a thin blade.
Thin porcelain encasing a world of pain.
White skin.

Red, living rage,
Humourous streaks staining everything in their path.
Wandering past the innocent stage of white,
Rushing past,
Reaching out like little snakes of red ink.
Crimson, pouring away from the innocence,
Living in the black.
Red blood.

Black, the lost,
The absent.
Where everything is lonely,
Hiding a world of spilt blood.
Absorbing the pain,
Spilling out,
Forming puddles beneath me.
Black is pain.

Red rage breaking through the white,
Running along, laughing, taunting.
Being followed by the innocent stranger,
Staining it, disturbed thoughts flying inside.
Reaching into the lonely abyss of black,
And fading away.