Melancholic, miserable and misused,
Like forlorn and wretched souls.
Sable, subtle and scorched,
Like ghastly death on my door.
Wistful, wrathful and wizened,
Like a broken spinster from forgotten yore.
Cataclysmic, constant and cruel,
Like a black rose from dark lore.
YOU ARE READING
The Mysterious Language of Flowers
PoetryEvery flower has a name, every name has a story, every story has a beginning and every beginning has an end. A collection of short poems. Book to be published soon. Only first 5 chapters are available for your reading pleasure. Thank you for everyth...
