Rose Red
In the deepest hour of day
Your bloosming aura awakes,
From darkest red within
Blooms an enchanting crimson.
A drop of dew sparkles bright,
Giving a-glow your darkness.
A speck of lust
In a heart of dark,
Where all the
Rest shall whither.
A beauty you are,
A prim rose red,
Upon whose vine
One shall not tread.
For in your thorns,
Shall mercy not pledge,
Even the sweetest,
Rose of Red.
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