Her blood dripped on a white rose,
Perhaps a pure rose,
But the blood kept falling ,
And falling,
And falling,
Until the rose was no longer white,
But blood red.
It was beautiful,
You couldn't tell it was blood on the rose,
You couldn't tell it was red because of a girls dripping blood,
But under all that blood,
There's a white rose,
Pure ness,
Peace.
That rose reminded me a lot of him,
Beautiful,
Interesting,
Mysterious,
But bad,
Or so I thought.
At first I just thought he was a bad person,
Rude,
Cocky,
Little did I know,
That he was just like that flower,
Pure,
Beautiful on the outside,
But even more beautiful on the inside,
And little did I know,
That I was gonna end up falling for him.
Him,
The guy that I couldn't be next to for more than 5 minuetes,
The guy I thought was just a spoiled brat,
The guy I thought could be Satan himself,
But also the guy,
That under all that blood,
There's a beautiful white rose.
-Just someone who wants to tell a story
YOU ARE READING
BLOOD ROSES AND THORNS
PoetryJust some thoughts and stories that may represent more about life than a novel (poetry)
