Over a sea of grief Scarlet died,
above her dying mind were fossilfied memory imprints of her favorite day,
for a minute I stayed watching this brilliant display,
until a god with a broom came and swept them away.
In their bereavement all of her colorful friends,
Turned to a milky grey depressing blend,
Which incidentally made Grey feel inane,
So he set off to find a less trite identity,
One as stunning and bold as Scarlet used to be.
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