Letting My Mind Speak
White rose buds slowly ease out of my lips,
As its thorns cut my throat bit by bit,
And turn the petals into a shade of crimson.
The petals spew onto the soil caressing it,
And turning it into gold so pure that its color is of
A transparent one,
So transparent and pure
It shows me image deep beneath the earth,
Of hell dusk entrances
I cry at the image and my tears flow upward onto the sky,
Opening a pathway to heavens pearly gates,
My tears flow all the way up,
And up to the gates and knocks,
At the doors to tell god of these un-soothing pains
And overflowing miseries.
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