One drop of blood is just enough to taint
No more than what has gripped the mind with dread
Completely catalytic, rusting paint
Evolves from shapeless blot into deep red

Loquacious eyes, they don't submit to this
Of silences and hurt they speak, and sigh
Supposing each the other wouldn't miss
The presence of a mirror friend at nigh

If they would lift their eyes just once to see
Serenity and love entombs the world

Limp and submissive, they refuse to be
Out-reaching, for their leaves are tightly curled
So where, then, did the trouble all begin?
Their minds; they are adept at breeding sin.