Poems and thoughts

November

I wandered trough the night.
The air smelled fresh and my ears were cold.
I never believed I would fight.
Because when you are young you learn to never believe what you are told.

I found myself in the forrest.
And I gazed at the silvery-green shimmering trees.
The noose in my hands was heavy;
For a while I stopped to breathe;
Underneath the trees right in front of me;
Right there grew a single red rose.

The rose had many thorns,
And I'm sure it's the only one of it's kind.
It was too beautiful to be picked,
Too beautiful to be left behind.
-What should I do? Am I the one
to decide what's right and wrong?-

The noose slid out off my hands,
I decided to stay with the rose.
I sat there for a while and noticed some small things that made the pain worth it.
The fresh air in the fall;
The nightowls calls;
The smell of rain;
It will always be the same.
And I suppose;
this one single strong red rose;