The rose

The white rose.
So pure,
So innocent.
Opens it's tender buds
Slowly,
Hesitantly.
Reaches out to touch life,
To feel the sun
And the warmth of love
Upon it.
Basks in the rays,
Oh, glorious sun,
Oh, beautiful love.
The rose blossoms,
Grows and grows,
Reaches up to the skies.
Feels it will never stop,
Will always be filled with love.
Then...
Something happens,
Something wicked and sinful,
New to the rose.
It is filled with pain,
With hurt,
With sadness.
The evil goes on.
The rose begins to darken,
To turn from the light
And hide from what is good.
Love,
Now,
Means nothing to the rose
But pain.
It's innocence is gone,
The purity stoeln,
Ripped away forever.
Slowly but surely,
The rose turns it's back on life,
Shrinks,
Turns to black.
The petals droop,
The flower fades.
Only blackness now,
Blackness to match
The darkness within
That once white rose...