A blood red rose
Blazing, beaming petals
Gleams of sweetened dew
Napping on its claret skirts
That sweep like gentle winds
In a flawless bud of joy
Tickling the sapphire skies
With carmine, sparkling fingers
Adorned with golden rings of light.

It rests among the emeralds
The grove of verdant treasures
Their jaded stalks sprouting forth
To festoon the barren land.
Exotic leaves
Twist and dance
Coiling in the breeze
The lone red rose
A crimson diamond in the rough
Now alone in the thicket of green
Where the despondent vines
The ruthless creepers skulk in shadows deep
Scavengers of the ruins
Where dazzled gems
Once reigned supreme
A tranquil, whispering Paradise
Now a gravesite for that peace.

The desolated field
Soaked with tombs of ravished serenity
An ancient ruin
Of such magnificence
Never again shall it be heard.
The blood red rose
Shedding tears of sanguine dew
Forsaken from all its lovers
They care for it no longer.

A dismal, blackened storm
Slithered from overhead
An vast and ebony viper
Corrupting the once pure blooms
With shadows of contempt
They were drenched in hatred's venom...
How could they love such splendor?
Such an elegance unrivaled
By any one of them
Unsurpassed and idolized
How could they love it so...?

Those wretched, evil flowers
Dwelling in that garden
Perhaps better dubbed as a nightmare
Where flora blossoms with abhorrence
For what sort of 'flowers'
Supposed as dainty, silken belles
Shun one of their kin
Merely for its unintended beauty?

Now a withered, pale corpse
Once a reassuring red
A staggering scarlet
To render any eyes in shock
Now wilting, deadened, destitute
Alone...
Forsook from everyone...
Slowly dissolving into nothing
Amongst the lifeless debris
Alone...

Simply for an humble loveliness
That it could not suppress
It only wanted to cause to others
A warm and hopeful feeling
With its motivating red...
But it didn't know that...
Its colors...
They were of blood.

That blood red rose
Now silent...
Desert...
A hideous, evaporating carcass
No longer painted red.
So no one need be jealous.
For its hues-
They no longer are of blood...

The blood red rose
Once that claret, dainty figure
Such pretty lips to kiss the Heavens
Now it reeks of rotting darkness...
Petals of the gloom
Drip from its deteriorating carcass
Wavering softly to the floor...
It is red no more.

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