The Dying Rose

September 15, 2011
By Anonymous

God hates me
Born in the desert sand,
His feet burnt, and rugged
He cannot carry me acorss this land
My heart weights too heavy,
for His weakened hands
Love to melt away with the sun,
like My soul has everyday,
The crimson eyes of the eveing turn into darness,
the tragic remains of graceful hands,
lay sunken in the sand
I lay still,
My feet gone too
My face,
is shocked in awe seeing the bloody moon
My voice is too soft,
even for the wind to hear
let My love parish,
as my God cursed me away from him
let Me show Myself as a dying rose
of the desert,
like God once walked on and served,
and protected,
and me an abomination of crystallized love,
far away i die, far away i might stay

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