Red is a color with true depth
a varied meaning depending on your look on life.
Anger and madness,
or deep love, everlasting.
But perhaps both are true.
Perhaps you can have both at once.
Perhaps love is madness,
perhaps madness is love.
what truely is love?
is love that feeling they give you
is love the air between the two
is love even real?
No, love is a construct.
Made up to excuse softness,
made up to explain obsession.
What is obsession except delusion,
and what are delusions except madness?
love brings one to madness,
lost deep in obsession for another.
Love causes one to loose themselves in the eyes of another,
to look for that sanity within others.
But what if that sanity is never found?
what if one digs themself to deep?
do they continue their search forever
or do they descent into insanity, never to be saved?
Red is this delicate balance
the phenomenon that is love.
Red is loss of ones true self,
the loss of ones sanity for another.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY N STUFF
PoetrySo uh I decided for some reason to post my crappy poetry here because why not. also I like black roses if you couldn't tell
