Self Made Poetry 2

Rose Of Death

In a very busy city sits a little park.

One day just after dark a beautiful white rose bush appeared.

They were far more beautiful then any rose ever seen.

The very next day a man that walked by on his way to work each day.

Caught sight of the roses and could hardly believe his eyes.

He looked around and plucked it from it's vine.

Instantly his mind rushed back in time when he had long ago as young man beat a girl while in a horrible rage.

He shook it off and went on with his day.

After a long day he was finally ready to go home spotting the rose on his desk he picked it up and brought it to his nose.

Once again he went back in time to when he had caught a  old building on fire.

Not realizing people we're inside they all burned and died.

Taken back he throws the rose away and sets out on his way home.

He cuts through the park the same as always but this night as he walks through a gang of men pursue him asking for money.

He states he has none, they push him on the ground kicking him and beating him.

There's to many to fight off and it late at night.

Eventually, they have grown tired of their malicious fun and run away.

The man badly beaten, slowly walks home and lays on his couch tired and sore wanting to forget his day.

As he lays there he drifts off to sleep, in the dead of night his houses catches fire, he wakes barely breathing from all the black smoke.

Choking he crawls to the door but it wont open.

Death befalls him and there where he lays is one single white rose.

The next day a women passes by and stops to admire the beauty of the whites roses.

she to picks a rose and brings it to her nose.

Her memories carry her back in time when she was a teenage girl.

She is pregnant wanting to hide it and chooses unwise choices.

She drinks a pill that will abort and kill her child.

The memory she  wants to forget sits heavy on her mind.

As time and the day goes by  she begins to feel ill, her body aches and she begins to shake.

Blood begins to pour from her ears, mouth and eyes.

Blood muting her cries for help, she too dies and there on the floor where her body lies is a single white rose.

This continues each day as people walk by, they all pluck a rose then die.

The moral never do something that you will come to regret.

because the rose of death will collect you debt or better yet will claim your soul.

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