Dead flower

It is a decaying void In blackness and in thought That I find my cry once more In futile tries of reconciliation. In a lonely made rose bed Falling pale and darkened dead Paving the flowering thorns Cleansing the devil's horns. So like the carvings in one's wrists It burns itself unknowingly destroying its being Like lost memories kept in scars to rebound And to return is to face a dead flower's kiss. The petals engulfed by blackness Bending thorns a lonely flower exposed As if a disease lies upon its fairness The enchantments it held forever opposed.