Bed Of Roses Poem by April Humason

I walked too close to soft disguise,
Petals painted over lies.
A sweet perfume that hid the thorn,
A garden where good souls are worn.

At first it looked like heaven's bloom,
But roots were planted deep in gloom.
What shimmered bright began to fade,
A fragile heart that darkness swayed.

Thorns grew deep beneath the glow,
Silent wounds I didn't know.
I felt the pull, the creeping chain,
A velvet trap disguised as gain.

But in that place where I was bound,
A greater Light came crashing down.
Not shaken by the thorns I wore,
But by the Blood that broke the door.

The roses fell, the vines let go,
The shadows lost their claim and hold.
Not by my strength, not by my might,
But by His love — I stepped to light.

No longer tangled in that bed,
Where sweetness masked the words unsaid.
Now I walk clean, restored, made new,
Washed by the Blood that carried me through.

What once tried hard to claim my soul,
No longer has me in its hold.
I bloom again — not bound, not torn —
Redeemed by Christ, reborn, restored.