White Roses

White roses, 
lead to a beautiful garden,
where the coffin lays, within
the tall grass, surrounded by vines with thorns; 
keeping the outsiders out, pricking your finger,
as cold poison sinks like a ship inside of your body, 
your beautiful paleness turning into a cold stir of regret,
fainted blue eyes tinted with the darkness from the shadows,
losing gravity, falling to your death, a never ending fall leading, you
to bleed out every last drop within you. Perfect porcelain turned to a
autumn darkness, filled with stars, beautiful white roses, only ever led 
to red roses, now the rain drips down its bloody red petals.