This Rose,
Is the lamentation.
Of my plastic face….
I resort to sadness.
As this bed of tears,
Drifts away.
The Mascara has run,
Like a trail of blood.
I’m a gothic scene,
In a tragic Love.
I have experienced,
such pain.
I such a short lived life.
My heart reaches sorrow.
(‘Please come back’)
These thorns,
are my only release.
they carry me too slumber,
My veins are large….
They have heated up.
As this white rose dies,
A red one lives.
A garden for love,
A burial for me.
(He loves me,
He loves me not….)
(He loves me,
He loves me not….)
(……..)
~Empath~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow..kool poem. i like it. its interesting.