The crackling sounds of fire are so divine
You get handed a bouquet of glittery roses
He looks at you, striking jittery poses
A huge leather box sits on his palm
He’s doing his best to remain calm
Out pops a huge ruby ring
He’s such a sweet thing
Red is love
But it can also mean to get rid of
You never really liked him
The lights turn dim
There’s a loud thud
Soon a flood of blood
You take the gifts and leave
So much red on your sleeve
How could one be so naive
Red is hate
That was the worse date
He never really made you happy
He usually acted snappy
That’s why he had to go
Buried beneath the snow
Along with the others
Deep below
--Rai N., 9th-12th Grade