a rose of blackness to the heart is death
a light with out breath
a memory of those who are of a past distant day
or a glimps in to the darkess we tend to stray
and some chose to stay
a symble of thoughts bound and binded to the soul
thoughts so seductive and sad the mind bears their toll
like a drop to the whater the ripples make it unclear
a black rose knows no fear
a destruction to the life we hold so dear
an object of beauty that knows no smile
that captures the negitive in a positive profile
displayed in a vase or hung on a wall
tatted or drawn on a restroom stall
its a passion that defines a different part of us all
set in the aura that surrounjds who we are
a black rose is a love set scar
-juice
