black roses bloodied at my feet,
to dark this crimson is,
Blackness dripping from my unwilling wrists,
It suffocates the petals, Asphyxiation, the flower wilts,
Drying at the touch of the evils bound in crimson veins,
The stem curls at the acid touch,
the thorns grow wildly, they came to touch,
the flesh thats my own,
Pricking me deeper, its ingrown,
Finding there way into my veins,
Sucking me dry, drinking my pain,
Bloodied black roses, cutting crimson deep,
Losing myself, letting emotions leap,
Black roses are crimson, and I the roses,
One in the same.
both dark, with thorns, perhaps an imperfection?
Both beautiful one day, yet so easily wilted,
My petals fall upon the floor,
this bloodied black rose, is no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem