I'm by design a sign of turbulence, though often symmetrical. I raise your arms in patterns, yet am found in the mathematical.

I have a blade, but I'm always getting cut. Those who see the aftermath are often brought to tears. And yet, people mention me when they talk of better lives.

If you rile me up, I'll go and see red, but despite the old saying, I quite lightly tread. You might find me in fields, or in your local dive - the only thing is, there I'm not really alive.

Yellow, green, red, brown, Once up high now on the ground

Beneath the flesh, I quietly lie. A framework that will never die. When life retreats and all is bare, I'm the final form, forever there.