The Rose That Died Red Poem by Tatenda Divine Makasi

Seen it all, heartless betrayal and rejection
Never felt quite this bored, overwhelmed with emotions
I am still red, never seemed to lose my bloom
My roots were plucked off but found their way back home
Who am l?

Brutal, hot summers, and cold winters came and passed
I lost it all, strength is the only thing l grasped
Why is it so cruel, why am l red, still, and not dead
I am a mess deep down but that ain't the case with my head
Honestly, who am l?

I am no hero but l am a dead survivor
Saved by mere mystery, l am not clever
In the secret garden l do grow
But have l ever been cared for? No
I am still shocked, who am l?

I died, but with an everlasting smile
I should have drooped but l am still red from a mile
My stem screamed, and my roots screeched,
But my outer beauty never ceased

I am not what you think l am, never
I am the great mystery, the dead survivor
Subdued to no rain, more pain, no care and no one
But l lived while dead, all in one

They had wished for my anticipated death
But l pushed through dead ends
And here I am,
I am the rose,
The rose that died red