Whimpering without sorrow
She lays by the corner
Hands clenched beneath her burrow face
A rose laid to remember the such tragedy she had caused
10 petals, but one left to recite of whether he loves her or he loves her not
Only one petal left, as to her common sense she knows the answer.
A knife guiltily placed by her left foot
She stares in the white reflection of once her innocent life
What tormented mind must indulge with such hate
But for her hates was nothing but color
Red.
Red As The Rose She Tored.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem