Our Roses Have Died

Everything must die, And im left here to lie. To facade myself we are dry and brittle, And that somewhere inside you love me a little. I have always known you were intelligent, But I wasn't; not to see that you were also malevolent. Hold me closer; keep me safe'; keep me warm; But I'm left with dead rose petals falling through the storm. I'm alone, cold, and my body is froze. And the blood in my veins is 36 below. Left with faint memories walking this street named Twinge. You stole my heart just to hang it on a hinge. I'm drowning in this storm, water up to my neck. There's nothing inside of me; there's pain; a speck. Twinge St. is flooded but there is no rain. There's just me, the dead roses, and all of this pain. I reminesce on your touch and remember our smiles. If I could have you back, I'd run the two thousand miles. But our broses are nothing more than a corpse, And with every petal that falls, more life falls to the floors. Our once red roses have now turned white. Our love has ceased; it's stained with dark light. Our roses are fragile; I'm sure they have died, And their spirits haunt my heart; how I've cired, I have cried.