The rose within, black with despair.
Slowly begins to gain a red blush.
Living through me, on my pain and suffering.
Always draining my life away as long as I'm in pain.
With thorny vines entwined around my heart,
It feeds on my torment like the virus it is.
Thorns stabbing me like ice cold daggers of despair.
Stabbing and shredding my insides.
The rose within, black with despair.
Now tinged red with my blood.
It feeds upon my pain and sorrow,on my deepest darkest fears.
Blooming into life as I start to whither and die.
Thorny vines growing throughout my body, consuming me
Until I'm nothing more than an empty vessel.
With the rising of my dark emotions comes its painful hunger,
Gnawing at my insides, waiting to be sedated.
The rose within, black with despair.
Blooming with a faintest of crimson glow drawn from my blood.
I have become tainted and twisted just like its evil vines.
Its thorns growing larger, as each day goes by,
Slowly emerging from beneath my skin.
Reaching outward, reaching out to the darkness.
For every ounce of love I have,
There is a burning hatred rising to consume me.
The rose within, black with despair.
Continuing to grow, inside and out.
Continuing to envelope me in its vile grasp,
Bleeding me dry, my life painfully seeping away.
Thorny leaves and vines wrapped around my empty shell,
Encasing me, pulling me away from the light,
Plunging me into a never ending darkness.
The rose within, black with despair.
Vibrantly blooming with life, stolen from my pain and sorrow,
Leaving me whithered and dead inside this prison of roses.
Leaving me as nothing more than an empty shell,
Void of all feeling and emotion.
I'm nothing more, nothing less, nothing left to do.
Except to slowly fade away.
To slowly decay as time flows on by
While time stands still within my prison.
The rose blooms with life, my life, life received from my crimson blood.
