PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Something terrible happened

this night.

The night I burnt the roses.

White and pure

For the children.

Red and bleeding

For the lives lost.

Roses mean the world to me,

Perfection in its truest form.

But I burnt them tonight

For the children

Who would never see their

mommy or daddy again.

For the people

bleeding in the streets.

I burnt the roses this night.

Charred remains now

smoking

much like the buildings this morning.

Except burning roses doesn't kill innocent people,

Crashing planes into the WTC does.