Crimson Rose

In the desert sand was I
Days and Days
Ages and ages
Searching for an oasis

Two paths lay ahead
One, on oasis
One, a blooming rose
Pondering a question so easy, but why?

Puzzled I found myself
Attracted like a bee towards the sweet smelling rose
Leaving the oasis
Far behind

I reached out!
It was red, like crimson
This small, delicate flower
Could stain the world in blood

Griping the stem
My hands throbbing
Thorns pierced
Through my skin

I looked back at the path
I could no longer see the oasis
My hands slipped
Blood dripping

Down
Down
Down
Down, was I.