A Withering Flower.

My hand have been Stein with wrath
I been accused of a crime u did not commit
A crime that became a burden to me
Charges have been pressed against me
My heart have been raptured by revenge

Death have accused me of falling in love with life
What non sense is this
Life is no more worth nothing to me
I been Rob by success
And I was accused of cheating with success

When the heart is troubled I run to my secrets garden to eases the heart
There in garden where the most beuatiful, most majestic wild flowers grows. But there's one in there that's very strange to me
A different aroma I never smells
Something so devious and frighten
Yet, indeed with a flawless color
My attention had drift away

The crimson burn red color of the flower pull me closer and closer to it.
The padel of the rose was only six
My mind begins to wonder
Why is this flower is missing some padels
This type of flower bareth twelve padels of roses.