Can blood stain the red, red rose?
There are many prophecies foretold
And in your hands my heart you hold.
If in that heart there is already pain,
Can you really break it again?
Maybe I should keep it all to myself,
Or leave it somewhere, sitting pretty on a shelf.
Then from your perch on the serpent's tree
All you could do is sit and see,
See how her beauty shines and glows
And her none again will ever hold
Then her blood will never touch the red, red rose.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
PoezjaLiterally just a place for me to post random poems Attempting to keep them organized by nature/ theme Posting new ones when I have them or when I feel like it
