deepundergroundpoetry.com
Roses
Roses die young,
roses die red,
to the ground,
leaves fall dead,
like sheets of blood,
upon your bed.
We die old,
we die grey,
grow and fold,
into an ache,
like velvet dreams,
inside our coffins.
I want to die red,
i want to die pretty,
i want to be glitter,
and shine in my coffin.
Do you love me ?
love me baby ?
i want you to cry for me,
as if i were pretty.
I am a rose, epitome of beauty,
my coffin is hollow, but it is not empty.
roses die red,
to the ground,
leaves fall dead,
like sheets of blood,
upon your bed.
We die old,
we die grey,
grow and fold,
into an ache,
like velvet dreams,
inside our coffins.
I want to die red,
i want to die pretty,
i want to be glitter,
and shine in my coffin.
Do you love me ?
love me baby ?
i want you to cry for me,
as if i were pretty.
I am a rose, epitome of beauty,
my coffin is hollow, but it is not empty.
Published 10th May 2014
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