Black Roses

It once began with a pathway of tall trees. With protectors, who were beautifully civil, gorgeously alive. Oh, how they stood with pride.

What an unfortunate posture held in their decaying armor. They were known as the knights of the forest, as it was once told. But even the bark gargoyles were filled with such redeeming history.

Was delighted, to be greeted by swords of radiance. Raining swords, that were stabbing through the major flaws. The sacred light had lit the almost forgotten walkway.

However, the damaged crossroad was covered in wicked poison. It almost seemed impossible to follow. Every dangerous step was taken quickly. And for every step, there was swift ripples.

Mimicking rings that were racing against time. Running through waves of lost souls.

Desperately, the alarmed vines had crawled up the chaotic champions. Sneaking up the weakened skin for reassurance, maybe? Possibly even hope? But the corrupted life was pulling these dramatic soldiers down.

Chimes had rummaged across the land pushing the curiosity faster. Eerie senses had followed the growing road that never seemed to end.

Although, this was a very well hidden secret. Supposedly, but, the forest attempted to keep it somewhat safe. Safe from all destructive beings. Terrifying bushes grew around the strange cave of wonders.

Showing its knives of judgement. Through nature’s powerful security. A divine sanctuary was waiting to be found.

The fluorescent shock was blinding. The violent glow really expressed the dying age on this lost temple.

An ancient arch way of vegetation began to unfold this journey.

Red blooming florals were everywhere the eyes could see. Even on the barrier surrounding the deceived garden.

Velvet roses with protective thorns and flirty green leaves. It was quite a sight. They danced among one another as petals flew within the vivid wind.

And living inside this spectacular place. A strange game composed of mazes lied.

Through each and every obstacle had its own prideful story, It’s own grateful life. But multiple stoic stories stopped short and horrifyingly.

All except one little destiny. The mysterious small path had a distant feeling. Even the red hellions seemed to become more obsessed.

More demanding for attention. Thorns began to greedily lick and furiously bite at the seams. Cutting through skin and ripping the delicate clothes.

Blood trickled down like hardships that wore down the heart. But words failed to explain what was through this sea of red. Lost words and lost emotions had failed. But,

A unique being all alone wrapped by demon’s angry jealousy. Through the thorns, it stood. With rips, tears, and, heartbreak.

It’s silky petals sung loudly. The scene had played out like a broken painting, a tragedy at hand. Through a war within itself and with the outside society.

The sun gracefully hit the troubled flower. Bringing forth accents of many shades over time. The war was won but the battle was far from done.

The goddess within the flower slowly dimming but not yet forgotten. A soul color no one but I could understand. In this flower, every detail stood out to me.

As it stands in its pain, I felt it’s tears. I felt it’s war, it’s hardships, I, again felt somewhat drawn to it. The strong willed creature would still stand even though it's bleeding.

Just like I still stand in my own pool of blood. Black roses are truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Just like the roses inside of me. They were just so, forsaken.