A field of darkened roses,
Now their velvet petals black as pitch.
Lying amongst the whispering stems,
Deadly thorns of gleaming silver.
Slender stems of darkest emerald,
Streaked with crimson dark as night.
Feeble moonshine gleaming softly,
Glittering eyes in a sea of blood.
Stars appear,
Like lethal punctures,
Through the fabric of the shadows.
Tiny glows,
Flickering fitfully,
Not yet enough
To conquer the night.
Whispering voices,
Taunting the mind,
Speaking of death
And the sleep beyond.
I feel the agony slipping away,
My mind settling down
Into the silence.
I let the scent of roses cloak me,
As my field of flowers burns. |
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