Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
And facing my fears,
Is just another interlude.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
The world will drown in blood,
Because they seek chaos.

Hellebores are black,
The hell-born are here,
Blood in their wake,
The world in blinding darkness.


Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Hell is empty,
And sin incarnates walk amongst men.


Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Not all are red,
They come in black too.

Today I bought white roses. She let me in, and like the others she made me paint them red. At the I was pale as the flowers when I bought them while they were a rich crimson red that tasted like iron while the scent of blood danced through the air, nonetheless it was unnaturally mesmerizing, much like her.

She may have been Rose,
Sge may have been beautiful,
Wearing the scent of a thousand spring blooms,
And I may have held on too long,
Wearing scars like skin,
Getting wounds that never healed,
Did I realize she was nothing but the thorns of a thousand summers,
That pierced more than my flesh.