You were the red rose to my broken heart
Scattered pages of my endless fall
As your ink paints, the rose all black,
the pages crumble all to trash.
I wish to give you the painted rose,
all black like how my feelings showed.
The ink will never fade,
'cause it had made its place
On the rose
On my heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem