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.