Sweet and tender kisses
he kissed once before.
Love and heart she felt
before he walked out the door.
Rose after rose
she found on the floor,
and now it is him
who carries mighty roars.
She cried,
she wept,
til no more she could scream.
She cut,
she wept,
and all she did was bleed.
Yesterday
he found her blade-
a secret she carried
to her grave
and now he knows why
she committed suicide.
A dozen roses
carried her gently
over the edge...
Little petals just as red,
as the blood she had shed,
reminded her of the life they led
before a woman
put her on the edge.
Young man, don't you see
how pitiful lust can be?
Now 'tis you who cries
and picks up a blade
for suicide.
