The end will eventually come.
Brutal and viloent.
She cries, coiled up on the floor.
The rose has wilted and weathered away.
The thorns have dug into her palms,
The blood a crimson red.
Leaving a wounded scar to remind her of him.
Brutal and viloent.
She cries, coiled up on the floor.
The rose has wilted and weathered away.
The thorns have dug into her palms,
The blood a crimson red.
Leaving a wounded scar to remind her of him.
His dark eyes.
The lies he told; the truth he hid.
The pain he caused.
His hands on her, leaving bruises behind.
The love she thought she had for him.
All lies. All unrealistic.
He did this.
And all that is now left is a poor girl crying
Over the bloody petals and thorns,
Of the rose that once survived.
Blood Red Rose.
And all that is now left is a poor girl crying
Over the bloody petals and thorns,
Of the rose that once survived.
Blood Red Rose.
-M.
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