Like a rose that Burns
To its core
Bleeding from its thorns
the beauty of its pain
I Absorb the aroma
Coming
Raw from the flesh
That bleeds
Purest of bloods
I devour
It's taste
But it's remains
Are The petals that linger
Flaming red hot ashes
to dust
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem