PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Walking along a path one day,

I saw a rose growing,

all on it’s lonesome.

I picked it,

and took it home.

It was a black rose,

not fully bloomed.

I looked at the corruption in the world,

and thought to myself,

as I tended to this rose,

that’s it good we still have,

the little things to make us happy.

As the days went by,

the beautiful rose blossomed,

but to my surprise,

it was still black.

Like the color of Satan’s soul.

And through each day of it’s blossoming,

things got worse and worse in the world.

I stopped tending to it,

but it kept growing.

I threw it out,

but in the morning,

it was back in it’s vase,

like it had never left.

I watched, and waited,

for it to wither,

and die away,

but the only change I saw,

was more blooming,

and sharper thorns,

like the horns of Satan.

So I prayed,

prayed to God,

and told him I was sorry,

for tending to Satan’s rose.

I felt like sin,

had blossomed right there,

in my hands.

I prayed every day,

till one morning,

Satan’s rose,

was gone.

I learned that day,

how deceptive things can really be,

and how at times you may think,

something is good for you,

but underneath it all,

it’s Satan’s rose.



~*~ Jill ~*~