My little blood rose

Blood is like a rose;
Strong, deep, and ever flowing.
In a river of blood a red rose grows,
Flourishing among the darkness.
It grows and grows till it breaks free;
But the roots remain.
Solid and strong the river still flows,
And still the rose continues to grow.

Among the light yet still in dark,
We grow and learn
Till we cease to be.
Like the rose growing in blood.
The red river flows, pulses and churns,
But still the red rose grows.

Thorns of brown grow sharp to the touch,
As drops of blood trickle off.
The color of the rose darkens,
As the roses roots drink their fill.
The blood that nourishes will eventually kill,
And the red rose will be born again.

Among the light yet still in dark,
We grow and learn
Till we cease to be.
Like the rose growing in blood.
The red river flows, pulses and churns,
But still the red rose grows.

In a river of blood a red rose blooms,
Drinking it?? fill till death claims its roots.