Drift to sleep in a field of white roses,

The one where the fantastical fairy prince doses.

It’s the only place you’re ever truly at rest

And where fantasies in the wind can manifest.

It’s the garden of eternal peace and solace,

But beneath the calm lies ribbons of bloodied lace.

Oh, don’t you know the sweetest touch can stain,

And the most beautiful flowers inflict the greatest pain?

Rest in this bed, the last one you’ll ever sleep in;

Let death tuck you in, the most graceful assassin.

As the years pass and into the ground you sink,

The most beautiful white roses begin to dye pink.

Their roots cradle you in their tender grasp,

The life you breath into them will make them last.

It’s the garden that springs from what once was,

Covered in beauty to hide what it does.

Oh, don’t you know the sweetest touch can stain,

And the most beautiful flowers inflict the greatest pain?

Rest in this bed, the last one you’ll ever sleep in;

Let death tuck you in, the most graceful assassin.

Love the life you’ve created from you tomb,

Your body it’s nourishment, the earth it’s womb.

You’ve been accepted into nature’s greatest design,

Both an object of fear and elation combine.

It’s the garden forged of body and soul,

Watered with the blood that time stole.