Bloodless

A single rose,
With no hope to live,
To many that hate it,
No room to forgive.

No roses around,
To help this rose heal,
The wind is blowing,
And this rose,
Is without a sheild.

The rain is pouring,
And this rose, must blossom,
But nothing beautiful,
Can it become.

The red is black,
The thorns are longer,
It's stem has expanded,
It's stem is stronger.

Then comes along,
A poor innocent child,
Picking this rose,
Out of it's wild.

Now in a vase,
It only has days, alive,
It has no hope,
Once again,
It can't survive.

And it's alone.

This rose has withered,
Quite like me,
It's body is dead,
But it's soul must flee.

It's pedals have fallen,
But I must confess,
It wanted to die,

Leaving it's veins bloodless....