A looming black gate with serrated edges,
Gargoyles were staring at you from upon marble ledges,
You opened the gate with a fearless pride,
Fate awaits you where your life is denied.
Wandering through the garden of rotting weeds,
Weaker you became as a hungry Death feeds.
You rested upon a swing hanging from an Oak,
With nothing to keep you warm besides a feeble cloak.
Your small hand grasped at an aching heart,
With wounded visions of falling apart.
But just before arising to make your retreat,
You glanced upon the crumbled bricks beneath your feet.
A rose did lay on the moss covered path,
A beauty disturbed; it revealed its wrath.
Thunder mumbled an angry roar,
Electric veils of light began to soar,
Glistening rain fell from the darkest cloud,
You could hear your broken heart beating aloud.
You could feel the scarlet flowers torment,
As you knelt to pick the blossom from the cement.
Beauty grew in the garden as you become ever frail,
You fell to the ground and your face faded pale.
A tear emerged as you took your last breath,
A wondrous dwelling surrounded your death.
An entity took over and your corpse was revived,
Where eyes dissolved there were flowers alive.
Frail bones turned to roots and unkempt hair to earth,
This is in the stars for us all since the day of our birth.
The rose lay beside you, crippled with rage,
And bled from it's petals a bright red lineage,
Of the curious soul who dares enter the lair,
Despair is devious but most are unaware.
The living crypt is bountiful again,
Ready to entice more lonely souls within,
It anxiously rests as it eagerly awaits,
For another dim spirit to enter its gates.
