Blooming, red, roses,
Beautiful and full of color,
Rain is like their mother.
Does that make the sun their father?
Droplets from the sky keep the roses beautiful.
Rain,
Clean and needed.
Sun,
Bright, happy.
Blooming, red, roses
Full of color, full of life.
The sun gives them life,
Making their red petals pop,
Like red lipstick on plump soft lips.
Blooming, red, roses,
Gorgeous as they'll ever be,
Envy comes from the rain,
The sun also?
Dark clouds tower over the roses.
Posion rain pours and pours,
Dirty, poison water.
The murderous droplets hit the red petals.
Posion runs down the petal,
Like tears down rose stained cheeks.
The rain isn't supposed to do that.
Why isn't the sun doing anything?
The roses couldn't fight the posion rain no more.
The roses vibrant color became dull,
And boring,
Like a bruise,
Or like a broken heart,
Because that's how the roses felt.
Broken.
The thorns on the roses couldn't protect themselves anymore.
They were weak,
They felt weak.
That posion rain sucked the life out of them,
Their color,
And what they were.
They weren't blooming, red roses anymore.
Their petals started chipping away,
Becoming weak, they withered away,
They fell to the ground,
As they felt themsleves slowly going away,
Away from what they once were.
Blooming, red roses.
