Blood Roses

A mixture sorrow, pain, and a little nature

Blood was spilled and warriors slain upon this filled of sorrow and pain. In this place roses grow so beautiful that passers tend to slow. Sharp thorns grow along the stems so that they're not picked on childish whims. These roses I now tell thee grow upon a land of misery. They rise up from the graves of the dead with petals a deep blood red. Thus blood roses are what they're called, at their sight some are cheered while others are appalled.