The theory of a Rose.

The seed was planted on the 1st on June, near twilight afternoon. The stem crept up from the cold ground, silently crept without a sound, creeping creeping so silently, out of sight where no one could see.

 

Up from the ground shot a single bloom, two leaves and a head from it's solemn tomb, it smiled so elequently at the gardens view, the rose had grown and yes, it was brand new.

 

it's colors were deep red of a crimson hue, it looked so warm but it's heart so blue, as it grew and got taller it's heart only grew smaller . As it's vanity and boastfulness increased, all feeling to it's conscience ceased.

 

The rose grew smarter as it's humanity left, it's morality shifted to a violent tone, it craved the taste of flesh and bone, the coroner went and picked it up with great glee for him it was such a great sight to see.

 

The rose's thorn had grown so sharp, and it's thirst so great, no amount of bloodshed it saw could satiate sitting in that coroner's office day after day as bodies poured in cold and gray, there he sat and watched day after day.

 

He saw accounts of murders and countless merciless killings, all the homicide and blood spillings, it brought the rose great joy, for it death was a fun toy.

 

One day the coroner looked rather solemn, and looked at the rose with great disdain, took it from it's vase and took it into the rain,the coroner laid the rose on a single grave of a soldier, young and brave. Slowly the rose's humanity shrank back to him, and there he stayed quietly counting the days.

 

One day the rose finally died himself, finally understanding the reality that befell him. Death washed over him like a calm wave, the rose faded to an amber brown, while it's petals like dewdrops fluttered down.