In peaceful dreams of darkness,
My heart finds itself at rest amongst the sharpness,
Of the thorns,
I lay upon a bed of roses,
And the door back to my home swings back and closes.
Locked inside a field of red roses,
My head on a pillow of spikes,
I’m bleeding too much; yes I know this,
But I can’t leave this place, no not tonight.
With every lie you tell,
More flowers spring from the ground into this hell,
And through my back,
The graceful stems slice through my body,
But I don’t care; I loose feeling with each drop I bleed.
Trapped inside a field of red roses,
My soul, just drowning in the red,
In puddles seeping through the closest,
Flowers that you have planted for my death.
It’s a nice gesture, I’m sure you meant well,
But you have led me to the depths of hell,
And everytime you have hurt me, or told me,
Something sweet,
But meant something else…
Roses cascade upon the corpses,
Of the lost and loved, both alike,
And vines entwine; wrap round all of us,
But I can’t leave this place, no, not alive |
