White Rose Poem by victoria alyse gleason

There lies a flower on the floor
Wilted from the pain she cries for
The sweet young rose he left for dead
Weeps for her white velvet petals turned chrimson red

Her innocence was hacked away
He the predator
She the pray
With chastity gone and unfathomable dismay
The white rose was violated and left to decay

Satisfied with her forced submission
He proudly admires his rose's condition
Pain burned inside her like flames from hell
As she counted the chimes of a far off church bell.

Its midnight
And a flower lies on the floor.