Roses Are Red... Poem by Amber Zitzloff

Roses Are Red...

Rating: 4.7


Roses are red, voilets are blue
blood is red, when I bleed my body turns blue.

When I cut and slice my skin,
magically, a red flow will begin.

Upon my face there lies a smile,
I look so sweet, I look so vile.

The room starts to spin,
and the dark starts to win.

There will be no waking for me as I lay on the floor,
the one who finds me will be overwhelmed with gore.

Finally, everybody knows and
on my casket lies a large black rose.

Horrified by this terrible deed,
somebody realizes what it is that I did need.

Too bad, it was not figured out before, but its too late.
You can't save me anymore.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Alma Cortez 02 March 2009

I love this poem very deep

2 0 Reply
Robert Siney 19 November 2008

I felt a tragic despair within your words, Amber. The resentment of the abandoned victim was also evident in this strong piece. I liked it. Keep smiling and keep writing, Robert

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