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 Sep 2017 Hannah
Vale Luna
I was a rose
Turned black with decay
Until my petals fell to the dirt
And I stood naked
In front of your audience

I was a rose
Watered with vinegar
Fed with cyanide
Loved by your ego
And broken by your hands

I was a rose
Torn from the roots
Cut off at the stem
Dead before I was alive
And rotten before I was ripe

I was a rose
Stabbed by my own thorns
Bleeding from the inside
Draining my crimson color
Into your palms

I was your rose
Painted black by your lips
Brushed to dark perfection
My expiration date long passed
As you sniffed my last breath away.

I was your rose.

— The End —