As the Roses Bled

The garden roses

Sweetly scented

Painted white

By someone demented

Enough to fool the world

Who laughed and regretted

As the roses bled.

“Thorns which dead

Still prick the soul”,

The roses said.

And colour faded,

Leaving them bare.

The layers—peeled off

Without a care

By someone demented

Enough to fool the world

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