Nightingale and the Red Rose

Once upon a time, there was a bird who spoke of love

My nightingale believed in love, this magic she spoke of

Knowledge and philosophy is my true power

And yet my nightingale claimed that love is much stronger

 

I once did believe in love, this magic she sung of

I only knew the word of books, not the word of looks

Yet this this girl, this beautiful girl, brought my heart so close

She said that she would dance with me, for a crimson rose

 

No trees bared a beautiful rose as red as blood of the sun

As red as the blood of a girl who were shot to the heart with a gun

I laid on the grass under the tree, there will be no dance for me

Yet my small nightingale, just won’t let it be

 

She pierced her breast against the thorns of the dead rose bush

The moon cried and the oak tree screamed, yet she continued to push

The rose bush regained it’s life and gave birth to a red flower

My nightingale ended her life, just to make me happier

 

I took the rose to that beautiful girl, asking her to dance

Here is the flower of our promise, yet there was no romance

Another man gave her a gem and everything around me froze.

“A gem is much more precious than a silly little rose.”

 

Out of anger I threw the rose out onto the road

Busy streets of our town where many carriages rode

Someone on a horse ran over my nightingale's red flower

The last thing she saw at her final hour

 

I once did believe in love, this magic I disposed of

I only know the word of books and nothing else matters

You see, my little nightingale who is no longer here,

Knowledge is true power, nothing else should be endeared

 

Love is useless

Love is hopeless

Love is dying

 

Yet why, my nightingale

Am I the one crying?

  .....I'm sorry....

Poetry Slam: 

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