Blackened Hues

Passion, it wears through time,

It burns a hole through all existence.

Its grasping hands cause the crime

That ends the thread in an instant.

And even though it was wrong

In his inner core he knew,

The only way to escape the harm

Was to change the blackened hue.

He bought the gun from the crow

Who smiled at him, presumptuous.

Gone the innocence in one blow,

A criminal. He murdered his sustenance.

Passion, it wears through time,

It burns a hole through all existence.

Yet worse than this resounding chime

Is to taste the feeling of indifference