𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑃𝑜𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑦

𝗗𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱𝗥𝗼𝘀𝗲𝘀

𝐷𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑠

I packed a box, filled with royal red roses.
Beheaded stems and fallen, dried petals.
A message it should send, not only the roses, but also the bloody head.
It's mine, my head.
With scissors I cut the roses off stems.
I wanted to see, what would happen to people.
If they got cut, like the roses I killed.
Love is a curse, that I'll never deserve, neither do you.
Not even dead roses should belong to you.
Maybe I should've thought it through, but you didn't when I gave my trust to you.
I took what was mine and what's yours aswell, because you hid the multiple hearts you'd always get.
You made me buy roses, just to murder them for the next time we'd met.
You made me the monster I am and I killed myself for you.
Don't cry, laugh or anything else you used to do, all I wanted was for our love to overdose and I hope you'll wish to be a dried rose, after you find what once was yours.
Me.