A Collection of Tragic Deaths

What Colour is Death?

Sometimes, there are points in a person's life, where they just want to give up. Where they think there is nothing worth living for. Sometimes, there are people in that person's life, who they care about. That they don't want to dissapoint, or hurt. There are some people, who help them along, keeping them going, stopping them from committing the ultimate ending. Sometimes, this group of helpful people do it to forget about their own pain. They do it to forget, about themselves, their strife, their pain. They do it, without realising that their own pillar is crashing down, slipping away, leaving. They crash and burn a blue flame of sadness in the black cloud of fear and angst, wishing that they could go back and try again. Within them, are a few, they burn the yellow flame of hope and push back the darkness. They try again. But that would be too perfect, if they all lived happily. Most of those who follow the yellow flame will fall, deeper into the darkness than they began. Their once bright flame of hope, love, and passion, smothered and killed by the red flame of their own blood burning as it's spilled on the paving stones of their beloved's lives. Slickening them, preparing them to fall into their own pit of the white light of guilt, burning the black flame of remorse. There are those that still sit in the black cloud of fear and gloom. Those that get another chance in a different way. Those who's love falls with them. Among them are those that try to leave the gloom together. Few succede, and those that fail fall farther, often ending in pain and suffering for one or both. Among those that fail, some end it together, their red flame burning as their life leaves their hands locked together. There are those who still escape, only t fall into the white pit. Gut overwhelming them, their partner left behind in a plum of red flame, tinted with the he scarlet of love. Here in the white pit of light, the red flame burns too. Slowly though, mealy a candle next to a blaze as the cold steel bites repeatedly into the soft and tender flesh of a guilt riddled arm. There are those who close themselves up. Their flame of emotions gone, any shred of humanity leaves them. They simply ARE. Their catatonic existan cr a warning to those that would pursue the fleeting warmth of love.