You once gave me a single rose.
As a gift of your love.
But now that rose is a curse of death.
The thorns dig deep into my side.
The stem entangles around my neck.
The petals dried and brittle.
Creating a poison, trapped inside my lungs.
I once cherished that rose.
That rose that offered me hope.
But now that rose only burdens me.
It pains me to think of you.
And it reminds me that I'm nothing like that rose.
I don't not have its beauty, its adorment, nor its gracefulness.
I am the thorns of that rose.
I have its degration, its ugliness, and its worthlessness.
I am nothing like a rose.
I am not your rose.
 TearsofBlood · Tue Aug 16, 2005 @ 07:46pm · 1 Comments |
