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Bleeding Black Roses
JD ( / )

Bleeding Black Roses

The thorns from the red roses I received
Pricked my finger to make me bleed
As my finger bled red
The red roses turned black

The black roses drained my blood
Until I had no strength left to stand
I fell to the floor with nothing left to see
Depression sets in as I fall asleep

I woke to find myself in darkness
Only to rise again in the light
The black roses bleeding me to near death
But with the thorns no longer in my finger tip

The hole left in it was still bleeding
And the blood dripped on roses
Turning them blacker than they were before.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 2 votes ) 3

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Comments (3)

That's pretty good! I liked it. It was dark, and the whole poem was a great metaphore. Nice work!
Wow…that's deep, I love the persona of beauty(the rose) killing you, and then the true nature showing through the blood
That was deep...good work.