The Red

Here all looks black and white
Alas, the moon dost wane
But it still sparkles and shines
Gleaming back at me
Wickedly knowing
Unknowingly feeling
Sharp from diamonds point grind
It almost sizzles in my hand
Warm its handle be
Compared to the cold complexity of head
Yea it all gleams back at me
Save for the red
Ah the red
You cannot see its true color
Nor does it want to be seen
Does it not seem black
In this place of little light?
That which is red
And drips gingerly from the head
Who have I struck?
Does the body lie dead?
Aye, that dost seem the logic
Twas not an eye for an eye
Just mere spite
Save for the red
Ah the red
That which I delight
Let me cast down on you
Visions of rouge
Its razor sharp head glimmers back at me
Smiling
Save for the red
Ah the red ~  4/22/06
IN MEMORY OF EDGAR ALLAN POE