Since birth of vision

My weary mission
To see, to watch,
The quaking yacht,
Of life that sails
Throgh the corrosive gel
Of fate, that tells,
My vision to pale,
All colours fade
Not grey, instead,
Red and only a vibrant red,
No quiet, no joy for that cursed shade,
Red of roses, red of blood,
Eternal red before this weary guard,
My humors dry, still red that shines,
Red infernal---red divine,
Mercy, exempt my duty ,please!
Not red, but white-the colour of peace!

Free me now, and if now saved,

Ill drop one tear on your destined grave.