A Interpretive poem by J.R. DeHaan

The crimson display of decay blossoms while the sun rises revealing the crude world that swallows the souls

Ruby blends with the fall

Soil is the birth of this evil that hides the cruel piece of art

The chilled body lays on that frozen soil and waits to become someone’s muse

A painting shows the wicked nature of what we call society

The last of society is a painting waiting to be

And all she did was color outside the lines