Letting go

I picked the rose
the reddest i one i could find
stab my finger
with its thorn

cry softly to my self
so no one hears
then start to
scream in pain

over time its gotten worse
my blood still bleeds
and i still tear
but now i release the rose

the color has changed
and to me Ive pick the darkest
one ever seen
yet i still bleed

and i slowly pick it back up
and bleed more
until my death

now i stopped bleeding
and the rose is still
....black....