Rose of the dark

I am the rose of the night
Black in colour. thick with
Thorns and blood. Dead and broken
Without a trace of life yet I seem to grow.
My thorns get bigger and I get taller. Taller
In the safety of the dark. Light brings me
Pain and causes me to wilt. Some call me
Cursed others call me blessed with powers
Of the dark but what I am is a mystery even
To me.

I am the rose of the night, black in colour
Those who look at me call me demented
Those who touch me are left with thick scars
As my thorns consume their flesh. And those
Who smell me are left addicted to my unusual
Smell. I am eternal unable to die only to live
With my imperfections. As the seasons change
I remain the same. Untouched by nature.
Left alone with no companions. For I am the
Rose of the dark.