Black Rose
She was a beautiful black rose
from nature's garden
but this was marked as the place
she'd forsake the god in
their love was found at what now
was a place forgotten
by the barriers of time
that enslave the fallen
the feeling's gone
they were music
he was rhythm and she was song
but still they stayed dreaming on
in retrospect; a different view of life
was it me or was it her
is it just confused as spite
the black rose grew some thorns
my touch couldn't bare
some say my vision was blinded
'cos they were already there
the thorns of a rose
really just protect what's most sacred
but they'll eventually hurt anyone
who tries to embrace it
the black rose was growing up
a sight to behold
but interaction between us
was increasingly cold
and so we grew detached
and i left the rose's garden
just to be alone
even though my soul was starving
and the rose began to wilt
from the toxins of the day
perceived to make it better
but it was beautiful anyway
no happy ending in sight
for the story of me and the rose
for we were to know
the feeling of needing to hold
somebody really close
to a badly broken heart
this was my life prerogative
my soul was broken up
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