Brokenheart Ballad Poem by Stuart Logan

Within the darkest broken heart,
Where the Black Rose starts to bloom.
A pain, it sits and waits within,
Like the eclipsed winter moon.

When the heart is torn apart,
This flower starts to grow.
It is the darkest and cruelest flower,
Over which no man can mow.

The cold white stars, they sit and watch,
The fever start to burn.
As the lonely man will sit and wait,
For the lost love he still yearns.

Invisible flame scorches the soul,
A queer and youthful turn.
The broken heart, it turns to dust,
No matter how weak the burn.

The black rose that sits inside his heart,
Now begins to weep and wilt.
For the torturous thought of living,
Fills the man with guilt.

He now decides that he must die,
For he cannot go on.
But still he leaves his melody,
In the whisper of a ghost song.

He holds the pill up to his mouth
and stays it in the smallest fear.
He realises that there is no hope,
In his lost and lonely life, so near.

the pill now sits within the man,
Spreading it's deadly curse.
As the man falls down and dies,
carried in the Reaper's hearse.

So now you know the painful story,
Of how the black rose grows.
For the hearts that cry, with a wail and moan,
Tells you all you need to know.