In crimson pools, a dirge does play,
A symphony that night betrays.
Its notes a tale of wounds so deep,
In blood-soaked rhythms, secrets keep.

The red song whispers in the night,
A mournful ode, the end of light.
Yet, in its sorrow, beauty shines,
An elegy for life's designs.

Harsh echoes in the silence weep,
Yet in their crying, strength they keep.
The symphony, with heartache sown,
Sings of life, not death alone.

So, let the blood-soaked symphony soar,
A testament to life, forevermore.





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