Flowers Left

Thu, 02/11/2016 - 22:55 -- rose_17

Softest petals, red as blood,

blossoming with hate and love.

Lying in a bed of snow

that bends and weaves, that blooms and grows.

 

Lost souls wander, never found;

home is buried six feet down.

Dark abyss, the devil’s home;

cold as ice and all alone.

 

Thorns that cut, a baby’s breath;

intertwined for all that’s left.

Sorrow filled, unhappy peace,

a place that even sun can’t reach.

 

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world

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