Metallic, stale crimson flows
between your teeth.
It is the taste of perish and deceit,
the taste of life that is death.
At times one wonders how it tastes,
the many textures it can reveal,
the many shades and features it can form.
The very smell it can radiate.
Indeed, one is curious to say,
"What will death that like,
when the scythe swings my way?"