black rose

               A ROSE IS LOST on A GRAVE...
it bloomed in a hopeless place
it never had a chance at beauty from its first sunrays
no hope, no chance, no need, it just whithers away
                guarded by death, surrounded by despair, the rose is seen but all misses its beauty, its flair
headstones washed in sorrow, graves covered In greif
buried under so much tragedy how can beauty be seen?
                  the roses' sweet aroma and velvety pettles are nwver known
when born to the abyss of gloom
beauty ignored, right to purpose denied, for a rose grew in a hopeless place where only death survives
                  to cope with its fate it adjusts to its life
allowing its beauty to be forgotten and its purpose made trite
silently it passes on and whithers away
                 FOR A ROSE IS LOST ON A GRAVE...