Crimson Cascade

You walk the all familiar path, paved in anguish and pain, and cobbled with bones and tragedies.

The trees, spiked and torn looking as if they harbour a grudge against you; only just holding onto the little life glazed upon their arms that is yet to be raked away.

The blue and red roots crisscrossing the vast wood, almost now fleeing for they know the excavator nears.

One fateful night, all aspects will be decimated by the iron and steel hate.

Cobbles will break, tress will yearn for the cease of the destructive campaign. The roots will split and splinter.

All leading to the Crimson rivers and waterfalls producing a sundered wasteland of regret and foul smelling iron, despite being all too organic.