The Rouge River

The river runs pure red.
It will forever flow.
You tell it to go somewhere,
Nowhere it will go.

It does the opposite,
To what it's told.
And as the winter comes,
It grows so cold.

The source of the river,
Is frozen and stiff.
It is stolen away,
So it can not slit.

The Rouge River,
Is what it's named.
For other problems,
It is blamed.