Black Dahlia

I was just a small flower

Harmless and beautiful

Barely blossomed with my whole life ahead of me.

A dainty daisy, no, a lovely tulip

Until he picked me from the grass…

But, I wasn’t dead yet. No,

And I knew what was coming.

He cut me up, he tore my petals

He drained my life torturously,

Robbing me of my beauty and painting me black.

He tossed me into the deadest of places,

As if I were a piece of trash

I lay there crumpled and broken

A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma

A black rose dying, no, a black dahlia.