you dress the warning up in velvet

paint the signal red enough to scream

every glance you steal feels practiced

every silence begs to be seen

it’s a blood-bright message in the corner

a flare you swear you didn’t light

you say you hate the staring eyes

but you stand dead center in the light

you call it fate

you call it art

you call it “misunderstood”

but every move is calculated

and you know exactly what it does

it’s weird how much attention you’re after

wearing a scarlet sign like a crown

it’s weird how you point at the fallout

then ask who burned the whole thing down

you say it’s just coincidence

just a red-stained metaphor

but every step you take is louder

than the lies you say it’s for

you call it a signal from nowhere

like the universe chose your name

but you sharpened every angle

and rehearsed the moment it came

a ruby warning nailed to the wall

you swear you never meant to show

but you keep checking for the echo

to make sure everyone knows

don’t act surprised when it stares back

don’t play dumb when it’s loud

don’t light the sky on fire

then cry about the crowd

you wanted the symbol

you wanted the weight

you wanted the stare

you wanted the fate

it’s weird how much attention you’re after

draped in a blood-red sign of your own design

it’s weird how you frame the disaster

like it wasn’t drawn in your lines

you call it prophecy

you call it chance

you call it “not my fault”

but the mark you wear was chosen

every time you let it talk

It's almost like an omen...