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For the Bleeding Black Roses

By
I am sick,
of the joy,
and the pain,
Of being a toy,
we're all to blame,

For the bleeding roses,
the filthy poses,
sad societies,
bad notorieties,
and diseases,
that pleases,
not one soul…

It's heartbreaking,
the suicides,
Not having friends,
when cars collide,
and someone life ends,

For the black roses,
the life it disposes,
As tears fall,
you wish you could cure all,
but nothing's safe, nothing's fine,
not with death's design,
their's always a toll.





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