PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Her name was Crimson Rose,

with flowing hair of red.

She stayed at home all day,

crying in her bed.

~

But when she went outside,

a smile was on her face.

Though inside she was dying,

and wanted to leave this place.

~

Everyone thought she was happy,

her family and friends.

But they had yet to see the pain,

and the scars that just won't mend.

~

She never showed herself,

the real her she couldn't see.

Not knowing how to handle life,

or what she should believe.

~

She asked herself one day,

why even stay on earth?

We are all dying anyways,

we have been since our birth.

~

Might as well go now,

she said to herself.

And left a little note,

resting on her shelf.

~

She stated these few words,

to all who read her note.

I'm leaving this place called home,

but not by plane or boat.

~

I'm leaving here forever,

and never coming back.

Don't worry, it's not your fault,

your love I did not lack.

~

For it was my own love,

I lacked deep within.

And if I could take this pain away,

maybe I could live again.

~

Those were her last words,

or so the story goes.

All that's left is the wilted petals,

of our beautiful Crimson Rose.



~*~ Jill ~*~