Red.
The color of blood.
The color of pain.
The color of war.
The color of hatred.
The color of guilt.
The color of my hands.
White.
The color of snow.
The color of purity.
The color of innocence.
The color of freshness.
The color of newness.
The color my mind used to be.
Black.
The color of darkness.
The color of evil.
The color of sadness.
The color of rotting.
The color of my heart.
My hands, now permanently stained red, would never go back to the pureness that they once were. The black in my heart would reside there for the rest of eternity. As long as lived in this non-aging body, it would be this way. As the beautiful rose died, I would live on.
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