The Black Rose

Take this knife from my hands
Stab my heart
Murder the truth
Leave a rose in my stead
Take this day and turn it around
Leave a black rose in my wake
Plant a red rose where I fall
The world still spins upon its axis
Take this knife and you can have my heart
For this afternoon...it'll be dead
Take my truth from the blood I shed
That this is a memory before I awaken
You don't have to understand
You don't have to believe
As the sun's rays shine down you will see
Not all is fake, not all is real
Not a word is to be said
From the one who is knowing
The ones who wouldn't listen
Now no words fall from those mouths
Let the unseen be heard
And let the truth be spilled
This is merely a farewell
For tomorrow I will see you again...
With another black rose





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iminprisonnojoke said...
Apr. 4 at 12:47 pm
i like this but you need to really mean what you say on the paper let your sorrows go let the paper be your pain but make it you no one elses poetry is suppose to be where you can open up not just words put on a paper
 
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