Bloody Rose a Poem
In gardens of sorrow, a bloodied rose weeps,
Its petals, once vibrant, now stained and torn.
A tale of passion, etched in crimson deep,
Love's beauty tarnished, its essence forlorn.
Once cherished, it bloomed with grace and delight,
A symbol of ardor, devotion delight.
Yet shadows of time cast a somber blight,
Leaving scars of longing, in silence unbound.
Each thorn, a reminder of love's embrace,
The pain and the pleasure entwined, never ceased.
But still, in its frailty, a poignant grace,
The bloodied rose whispers of love's masterpiece.
Through trials and tribulations it arose,
A testament to love's enduring prose.
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