My Rose
This life I live… can it be called a life?
I spend hours helping others…
Giving my very soul to comfort them.
I have taken on tasks only a mad man would dare,
Yet at the end of the day… I’m alone.
Forever feeling like this… Dead yet breathing.
I live for others… Yet I die everyday.
I pray to die, so I can be free.
Free… the thought of it seems so unreal.
I ask for little, but what I ask is always too much.
I want to fly, but I only deserve to be grounded,
I want to run, but I can never loose my chains.
I want… it does’t matter… I don’t deserve it.
Though I don’t deserve this, I ask for one request of mercy.
Nobody come to see me when I am gone… Just lay out a single rose.
A rose of black and red…
Black to show the hate in me and red for love.
Remember me for who I truly was… Not for what you believed.
Copyright © John Sine | Year Posted 2007
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