Blood Rose

When my roses smelled of blood

I thought it might be

The thorns doing that

Someone might’ve bled on it

Some or a few.

But the rose bathed in rain

Several times yet,

It smelled of blood in the morning.

Even tears of dew

Changed nothing in them.

I felt like the day

Being devoured by the night,

Felt like time stood still

Under my feet,

While the land slowly melted away.

Roses were never black and

Dirt never red.

So much war, so many lies

So many lives, turned to dust

And it’s the underground rivers of blood

That fed the roses, so

How can it not smell of blood,

And how can it not turn black.

My rose drank blood,

all night long

That’s why it smelled of blood

Everyday in the morning.

How can the things of heart

Turn to mind.

Why can’t they stop

Stop this fight

Because I liked my roses

When they smelled right.

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