Roseblood Poem by Anita Clark

Red roses bleed,
I bleed your blood,
Thorns prick my fingers, as tears prick my eyes,
Looking up from below, a watery haze,
Is what life's like under my self conscious gaze,

And yet I can't decide,
When these feelings of guilt will reside,
When I will forgive my battered body,
When I decide to live again.

Draining oxygen,
Northern lights,
Twinkle so bright,
Yet the petals still wither and droop,
Falling, signalling what I should do
Take care of this beautiful creation,
And if my body disobeys...
Do not enter the guilty maze.