Black rose

As the one sided truth has already been decided as all poetry gathered is the proof that only mattered.

As every night comes a new day my tenth year comes in May it was a journey to earn me a lofty title from very deep down I keep in recital. As a true writer knows through desire when to put the pen down and retire.

As a prose writer let's suppose this black rose grows free through its entirety of poetic color you may refuse to see as a muse you be as your plot through thought is by far the talent of me will you ever see.

Tell me a weaved tale if not believed it's only your truth as you only conceived. Within a delusional design you mastered the quest in manipulating the rest.

As chasing your next tale or in circles by fate to fail a mere fable at the round table is all I see forever writing your misery from thought to plot the com.

But clown deep down inside is the truth you can't hide so you and me both know it's the death of a poet as me and you both know it.