I picked out my white dress and my veil;

As I walked down the aisleI looked at my fiancé.
As I reached him I felt a sudden pain in my stomach.
My dress was no longer white.

My warm blood spread my dress,
This is not what was supposed to happen.
When I was planning this day I worked out every single detail,
But this I defiantly couldn't of planned this.
Blood keeps coming out of me,
I can't stop it.

All our guests start running out of the church,
My  fiancé just looks at me. 
My dress only has some spots of white left,
the rest  is red.

Red like the roses I picked for my bouquet,
Red like the rose pinned to his suit jacket.
Just then he bends down and whispers something in my ear,
He says,
"I wanted us to be Romeo and Juliet."

Then he stabbed himself.