in a field of flowers, of thorn hatred roses,
is a little flower seed.
who knows what kind?
it grows to a bud.
...
peer into the deep abyss,
mind void of hope,
of love.
mind full of hatred,
...
Thorn Hatred Roses
in a field of flowers, of thorn hatred roses,
is a little flower seed.
who knows what kind?
it grows to a bud.
green amongst the bloodred, the bloodred with thorns, old,
yet emitting eerie beauty.
but this bud,
with simple,
innocent,
Beauty.
it sits.
it shuns the roses, with its simplicity.
the way it is more free,
the way it has hope,
it might grow into
a daisy, a
tulip, a
crysanthemum.
but once it does grow into whatever it is,
its beauty dies,
it loses simplicity,
the beauty,
it gets shunned by the roses,
until it withers
to the ground,
regretting,
dying, , , ...
Gone.