The Painted Lady

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Ripples of color in every hue,

Temptress drags you in with baby blue.

Further and further into her swirl of paint,

Notice how there is no white, gown of the saint.

Shades of red, yellow and green,

Morphing into a tone that can only be a dream.

Constantly enchanted by the rainbows in her possession,

Until she finally bathes you in fiery crimson.

Basic knowledge of swirling dyes is what you lack,

Maybe then you would know that all hues together give black.

Wildfire

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Emerald flames rise and consume,
Corpses of the lost shall be exhumed.
Finally everything will be reduced to ash,
And the world will implode in a green flash.

Embers from below constantly grow,
Not a soul can understand how to stop the flow.
Could this heat be not of physical form,
Started from a tormented emotional storm.

Lightning of grief, thunder of sorrow
Rains of sadness fall like theres no tomorrow.
The eternal wildfire will not be expelled,
Until the monster inside is quelled.