A Rose in Hell

A rose in hell has no thorn
Her petals are fire
That leaves lovers scorn
Such deadly desire

When these beauties are born
Loving flames rise higher
Leaving one burnt,
But still left to morn

For that red blushing bud
Whose petals wet and flood
From that gem of a stem
Dew drops drip off like blood

Yes these flowers
Completely beyond compare    
With their dark magic powers
Let the looker beware

For when you've wondered this way
To watch these wicked widows bloom
Their sweet sect bouquet
Is the sent death of your doom!

Trapped by her madness
Left to forever forlorn
The red dressed temptress
A rose in hell with no thorn