A shadow sweeps over my mind,
as I go to see the beautiful souls,
of once mistaken peoples' trance,
they carried on until clocks struck twelve past midnight,
and the flowers started to bloom.

Black roses swept the garden that day,
A deadly gift for many who pray,
that angels come to set free their tears,
like so many before, in previous times,
I hear their wishes softly speaking,
"Please help me lord, I fear the senses."

The senses that draw so many near,
to see the elusive mistaken souls,
disguised by beauty so gentle and pure,
but cursed by the rose blood that once powered the moor,
Just a prick from the notorious thorns,
that are hidden by the softness of the mistaken rose,
emits the rose blood that does extreme harm,
would poison the most toxin free mind.

It slowly erases all good things that were,
and turns heart black with endless pain,
it forces the urge for eternal revenge,
on all people who weren't cursed,
with the forever life of rose blood.

I draw near to the moor and garden,
the gate is locked with fear,
I climb over the gate to see what lies beneath the stories,
a jungle over black roses is laid before me,
The sweet nectar draws me near and fills my every breath
with fear,
I try to flee but cannot break the beckoning trance the I
have undertaken,
The beauty hypnotizes me and pulls me in,
as I reach for the rose to bring it carefully up to my
nose.

The rose thorns pierce through my skin and the darkness
around me slowly begins, for hope is lost as those before,
the rose blood begins its cycle once more.

© Copyright of Danielle Lewis