Bleeding Elegy

In the depths of blue, a soul is adrift, A canvas of crimson, a silent requiem. Her eyes, closed in eternal repose, A mask of blood, a testament to her story. The water cradles her, yet it drowns her light, A paradox of life and death entwined. Her face, a canvas of pain and beauty, A symphony of red against the cool blue. Who was she? A queen, a warrior, a dreamer? Her blood tells tales of battles fought and lost. In her stillness, we find our own reflection, A mirror of sorrow, a mirror of strength. The blood flows, a river of unspoken words, A language of pain, a language of hope. In her eyes, we see the weight of the world, And in her stillness, the promise of rebirth. This is not just a portrait, but a journey, A path through the shadows of the human heart. In her blood, we find our own resilience, A reminder that even in darkness, we rise.