Roses Are Red

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Fuck this begining,
Let's try something new...

Roses are wilting,
The violets are dead.
Here comes the part, oh how I hate it,
The moment that I dread.
Love is gone, and
Hope is too.
So why try,
When I don't even have you?

Petals have fallen,
The flowers have shriveled.
So lay in this grave,
So glares won't devour and cripple.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
This begining for a love poem, is indeed cliche.
I like my version, for it is too true.