The Cursed Black Rose

The Cursed Black Rose

The blossom is as black as ebony

It is a symbol, the symbol of death.

There are droplets of red, can’t you see?

The smell of iron, as addicting as meth

Stinking up the room, like a rotting corpse

How can one lonely rose do such damage?

The way the skin looks, it’s like it warps

How can one bold rose create such ravage?

The innocent are always guilty

The rose of death reveals the untold truth

Some can’t handle how they are so filthy

And their sweet darkness is its fountain of youth

I know, for my soul has an eternal glow

From the devil holding the cursed black rose.