THE ROSES
- Dark Poets Club
- Feb 21, 2021
- 1 min read
By D. D.

The beautiful roses
Are dead, once picked up,
Bearing from the root.
The rest are remorse
Delayed.
Lovely petals,
Withering in my hand,
Faded colour of blood
Fragile to a human
Touch, but the roses are dead
Long before.