the smell of happiness it is no more
the stench of worry lingers the air
a wall of thorns covered with ugliness
holds a rose that use to be pure and white
but now is stained black with pain

plucked from it's tree is a
black rose withering slowly with
a fading perfume of true sadness
crying with its petals closed

eyes filled with hesitation
so soft to the touch yet so
dry like a sandy desert island
a soul that dreams just too much

pokking through the mind's crevices
covered in rust completely deep within
is a growing disease of emotions with
a heart that ticks but too full to beat
yet pumpimg slow is cold yet thin blood
this face is a fountain spraying out dust

a wall of distrust holds bricks burning
just like a fire thats has lost control
a stomp of hatred has just taken over every
part of this heart once filled of love

with no time to enhale it all in
a soft and warm yet crying soul
is dripping wet with darkend fear
strangled by the tightened barbwire
cutting through each and every petal
leaving behind scars with shreds of pain
covering every inch of this garden of hell