Bloody Roses

She runs through the roses
The smell of them so sweet
The look of their delicate poses
She barely feels the heat.
 
He chases her through the grass
He has her in his sight
She rushes through the pass
And all to his delight.

She stumbles to the ground
And he flicks out his knife
Then like a bloodthirsty hound
He brutally ends her life.

Her blood soaks the dirt
The roses, the grass, the ground
She can no longer hurt
She can no longer hear a sound.

Through the long winter
Her blood becomes ice
And though it will start to splinter
The cold ground must suffice.

Through rainy Spring
The roses would not grow
Her body decaying
Her desiccation slow.

Though years have passed
The roses stayed dead
The years went fast
He lost his head.

So guilty he felt
For the loss of her life
The cell he kept
His shortened strife.

He begged for death
The law wouldn't allow
He gave his breath
Wit a generous bow.

He lived out his years
And as he grew weak
He looked down on his peers
As his eyes leak.

Before he yelled help
They cut him dead
Not even a yelp
He lost his head.

She would never rise
Roses would not grow
And as he dies
His spirit is low.