Roses bleed out my red sorrow,
But they don't ever stop the 'morrow.
Nor do they stop thoughts from rushing about,
Just to be noticed, they must scream and shout.
Growing red all the while,
Living in fear of eternal exhile.
We're not so different, the roses and I,
We gaze opun each other and let out a sigh.
Stranger things have happened,
But fate's hand has graciously slackened.
Yet never before has my heart been pierced,
As the roses have done those past few years.
Neither corruption nor pain,
Can stop all that I seek to gain.
And, with my friends the roses,
I start the journey, again.