a rose once grew through me,
piercing blue stains with beauty
yet it was all on me,
none of its vines flow on your trunk
your gracing skin was peril
a knife that cut throw
growing petals i grew by myself
yet i wither to you
the accord of my dignity
washed by your eyes
a small string instrument
saying everything will be alright
and there across the cold
you left,
drastically growing thorns
as the wound of my flower slowly bleed
