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Roses are black.
July 8, 2016
I bought her a black rose at a renessance fair.
I gave it to her but she left it there.
Her forced hateful words had cut like a knife, peirced my heart and robbed me of life.
I wandered in endless misery, heart in a cage bound by thorns.
Darkness was all that I could see and a feeling like I had been torn.
Now vengence I seek and love I desire.
All I see is red like a fire.
I hide in the shadows, not to be seen.
But I am the King and she is my Queen.
© Wajida S., Shrewsbury, MA
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