The death of a rose

The cherished rose was ripped away
By an evil force in the light of day
ripped from the hands of a tortured soul
with a curse in life to respect us all

they took the rose and bit its head
threw it on the ground and left it for dead
the tortured soul let tears fall free
like the leaves in the wind of an autumn tree

I needed that, they heard the young soul cry
He bowed his head with a tear in his eye
That was a gift. He began to explain
But suddenly his heart was engulfed in pain

The young soul knew that his gift was too late
God had at least sealed his grandmother’s fate
He picked up the rose and rushed to her bed
She had the covers pulled up over her head

But I brought you a gift, the young soul cried
I wanted to give it to you before you died
But I passed some kids and they bit off his head
I wanted to get another one, but now you’re dead