Crimson flowers taint her dress

Pooling puddles of rot stains the crust of the earth

Her barefoot feet tread softly beneath the dirt

Leaves whispering away in the winds of unrest

One by one drifting endlessly from vibrant hues to

burnt ashes of flesh

She is alone for she is death

Giving purpose behind her villainess veneer

Painting petals beautiful portraits of reds

For the purity of flowers only create a colorless world

So when time is running far thin

Greet her with kindness into your decaying garden