Crimson's Flowing

A poem about war.

Crimson is her hair,

Flowing with the air,

Summoning spirits of madness,

Despair.

She walks as guided by the wise,

And everyone follows

Like a putting cheese to a mice,

Beasts.

Crimson is her hair,

Nothing now is fair,

Everything is valid as steel mouths spit

Death.

And she seduces the strong,

Pumping adrenaline

To quench their filthy souls:

Soldiers.

Crimson is her hair,

Everyone prepare,

Brothers dying in the name of

Honor.

Lipstick colored red,

Beauty dressing death,

Footsteps ravaging cities,

Babies crying blood.

Crimson is the air,

Flowing with the hair

Of another woman in the land of deserts:

War.

Author's Note

Please be constructive. I've lacked inspiration in the last few days so this poem won't be really good.