"The Rose"

"The Rose"

Here it sits on my lap,

Whilst I try to get out of this trap.

Its beauty was far more greater,

Than you, my little traitor.

All of its thorns have been cut off,

And oh, how green the stem and its leaves so soft.

The pedals were so red,

But look where this trouble has lead.

Once you started lying,

It was dying.

The leaves started to droop,

Because you created this mindless loop.

The pedals have turned black,

Because of the truth you lack.

I sit here and weep for this poor flower,

While thinking of jumping off of the tower.

As the pedals of love drop, and fall,

So does my faith, in which I cannot bear to lose at all.

Written by Zoe Anne