A simple white rose.
Buried inside of my heart.
Pure, innocent, happy.
Never lonely or full of sorrow.
Tainted not, am I.
White and pure.
Loving all, but on in particular.
The rose brightens more,
Its thorns are near.
But thorns can hurt.
Going in deep, it slips off the edge.
The stem dipped in black.
The ink flowing through its veins.
The leaves and the petals darken.
Sorrow and loneliness fill its heart.
Hiding its last white petal.
A simple black rose.
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