A garden full of rotten roses
I was alone in garden full of rotten roses.
It happened like some horror dream –
A thousand of bloody petals
Was flying round after round.
My bench was in the massive flower hurricane,
And stems with hundred spikes
Was covering the ground,
Where my legs were touching gentle grass.
An eerie thought – just one of them,
Kept devouring my nape,
Right in the middle of my agonizing brain:
How could I? How really could I still
Love someone with his hands
Whole covered in the deadly poison,
That made these roses rot.
Or is it roses? Not my heart?
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