He said he loved you,
as he gave you a rose.
The Petals were red and silky
like a novel everyone knows.
Later that day
He said he wasn't able to stay.
He kissed you, then he left
not knowing it would be your death.
You went to your room
only looking at all your gloom.
You turned up the music so no one could hear,
Or was it so they had nothing to fear.
You picked up your razor blade,
knowing you would be the one to fade.
You made your cuts,
with no if, ands, or buts.
As you lay there dieing,
the rose was redesigning.
The silky petals that were red
now just appeared to be dead.
Petals now black
crumble in a dried stack.
Dried and dead
you'll forever be in that bed.
And as your funeral came to a close,
He gave you one last rose.
