*To The Man Whose Blood Drip From The Tree* Look into my eyes, are they not red enough to show how much danger they in? Look at my skin, are they not ashy enough to tell you something. Don't love me when the last blood drops. My lips are sealed, I can't construct you my emotions.... They are wild, they spread over the surface of my life. They are deep, deeper than I imagine. The ground I stand gets slippery, I slip down the hills, looking to the bloods that drip from the tree. The man who died told me, he took away the sickness, but here I am, still can't feel the difference. I don't want a white rose, neither do I want a red one. I don't want you to sing a sad tone, neither pay a last respect, cause you never even give me a first one. | Quote by FOLASHADE EYENLA