My Rose

This life I live… can it be called a life? I spend hours helping others… Giving my very soul to comfort them. I have taken on tasks only a mad man would dare, Yet at the end of the day… I’m alone. Forever feeling like this… Dead yet breathing. I live for others… Yet I die everyday. I pray to die, so I can be free. Free… the thought of it seems so unreal. I ask for little, but what I ask is always too much. I want to fly, but I only deserve to be grounded, I want to run, but I can never loose my chains. I want… it does’t matter… I don’t deserve it. Though I don’t deserve this, I ask for one request of mercy. Nobody come to see me when I am gone… Just lay out a single rose. A rose of black and red… Black to show the hate in me and red for love. Remember me for who I truly was… Not for what you believed.