Black Rose

She was a beautiful black rose from nature's garden but this was marked as the place she'd forsake the god in their love was found at what now was a place forgotten by the barriers of time that enslave the fallen the feeling's gone they were music he was rhythm and she was song but still they stayed dreaming on in retrospect; a different view of life was it me or was it her is it just confused as spite the black rose grew some thorns my touch couldn't bare some say my vision was blinded 'cos they were already there the thorns of a rose really just protect what's most sacred but they'll eventually hurt anyone who tries to embrace it the black rose was growing up a sight to behold but interaction between us was increasingly cold and so we grew detached and i left the rose's garden just to be alone even though my soul was starving and the rose began to wilt from the toxins of the day perceived to make it better but it was beautiful anyway no happy ending in sight for the story of me and the rose for we were to know the feeling of needing to hold somebody really close to a badly broken heart this was my life prerogative my soul was broken up