To prick my hand upon a rose, I bled,
And to thrust a knife through my chest, I’m dead-
Both a danger, though one more so than the other,
For the rose was given to me as a gift from my lover.
So sweet and innocent it appeared at first
But its beauty masks the evil thorns I have since cursed.
And as for the knife which was pointed to my chest,
Well, the blade shimmered towards me, and you know the rest.
Though risen from the attack? Indeed,
Like a corpse reanimated, with life sprouting within me like a seed.
Though it was not the knife that led to my untimely demise,
But the rose, as hidden within its thorn’s dirt lies.
Grasping tightly onto life, its aroma, so sweet,
Turns out it was not meant to be, as death’s great eternal depths I soon did meet.
So, the innocent rose pricked me with a deadly poison,
And this put its unsuspecting plan into motion.
And instead of weeping, my lover’s eyes filled with glee,
For their dagger may have failed, but their rose would succeed, you’ll see.
Before I could announce my lover’s attempt on my life,
Which I should have saw coming due to our never-ending strife.
The petals of my life began to wilt and fall,
Plucking away my energy, while my lover towered over me, tall.
Their figure danced through my vision as I slipped away,
There was no remorse in those eyes as my death was underway.
Sadness is my final feeling,
My love’s destroyed me, now I am leaving.
There will be no peace at all, I know the truth,
Though this knowledge will die with me, as my lover intended it should.
Asleep forever I am to be,
While my lover moves on and forgets about me…
