A lovers rose


The roses.... I watch as the roses given to me.
Wither and fade into oblivion, just as my soul has.
Dear mother earth, please forgive my transgressions
of blood on your precious soils. Your pain is endless
just as my wrath is filled with rage and jealousy.
Father god if you are there, let these roses rise and glimmer
in the fields of Halfeti pass. My sin is too great to bear for these
beautiful pitch black roses, my life not worthy of flowers, tombstone,
or grave. Let it be that I lay in a maggot and leech filled ditch. Here I shall lay

You think everything is better when alone.
Though the pain is great, I wish to be alone sometimes.
Other times I think back to when I was proud of others.
As if they could make me happy I set myself in these fields,
But these fields are my curse to bear as I am picking the thorny roses.
The pain blisters my tongue from each grasp of the stem.
I yell as my blood falls unto these black roses.
Loud is my voice but heaven doesn’t hear me.
For I am cursed to pluck these roses for eternity,

There I was sitting among the roses.
Pondering on the vastness of the rose bitten hell.
This never ending abyss of black roses, yet as I lie in the thorn
Filled land covered in, dirt, blood and thorns. I noticed a rose.
Unlike the countless thousands I have plucked for she was blue.
She was lonely, on the verge of wilting as I crawled painfully towards this rose.
Yes she had thorns, yet unlike the others I was unafraid to feel her soft pedals.
They felt as if it were a woman's hair waving in the winds of time. Old as I lie here
I felt young when I saw her for the first time. Her name was Juliet. She was beautiful.
Though I couldn’t hold her. It felt as if it was I who was romeo. Whose love was forbidden.
So I dug her up by the root and found a clearing in which I made, and planted her where she can see the light. So she may grow happy. Then maybe she’ll out grow these cursed roses of black.

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