a beauitful life that
darker than
her blood.
so darker so deadly
and shuttering as her leaf
began to fall down
it seems.
she was cut piece by piece
tell her she was'n important
to the world.
alone she cryed of a savior
for a person who can share her
pain her love and her dreams.
that form of happyness of
her sorrow
a sharper line that race down
her torn's.
she still stand there no
one can't touch her bec she
was no where to befinded
she was'n in the gardam
but no she wasn' alive
but she was alive.
as black that the night
she stand in the middle
as the cut's bleed she was surrounded
by blood.
all around her was
black leaf of pieces of her flower.
pieces of memory that tell
her she was alone and nothing just nothing
in this world of her realilty.
but as she close her eye's and die.
she realize she loved not by
one or two.
but she was loved
by the one who wrote
this to her.
as her life was dark and
her body was beauiful she
was still there.
a beaitful rose i never seen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem