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The space is a blur of
dark red, brown, and green
overgrown masses of vines
sharp blades of grass and weeds
rose gardens filled with thorns
and I'm the bitter roses' thorn queen
trails of ink endlessly flow from my eyes
I ran out of blood to shed or tears to cry
clutch the hand of the stone statue
of my lover forever frozen in time
flowers may appear as if wilting and dead
no worries they're just bowing their
blessed little heads
And here sits the conquered
a person who didn't want
to be conquered but wasn't
ever strong enough to fight
so she gave up the light and
took the darkness as a
source of pain and solitude
and a way out of others' misery.

— The End —