Garden of Death

Such a pretty rose

Bloody petals

Each ruby drop

Has fallen

From my wrists

Transparent stems

Salty tears

Run from the eyes

Try to escape the pain

From their keeper's conscience

But the beauty of the rose

For it never to wilt

Comes at a fee

One of torment

A life engulfed in shadows

Cast from parents and peers

Torturous thorns

Laced with poisen

Hatred

Excruciating pain

The rose in my hand

Seems peaceful

Until a thorn

Catches the skin

A pebble of crimson

Trickles down my finger

Falls onto

The dusty soil

Success

The rose lands

Straight up

Stiff

As my body

Falls limp

Dead

In my field of roses

Ginevra Weasley crouched over the white marble in the prefects' bathroom. A bloody knife laid only a foot or two away. The rest of the school was busy stuffing their faces with the Christmas feast, no one would look for her in here, if anyone looked for her at all.

Her own blood was all around her from the various cuts she made up and down her arms, stomach, and legs, and yet she refused to spill a tear. She had cried enough over him.

'But is this better? Spilling blood over him?'

'Yes,' she answered out loud.

'How?'

'I'm not spilling blood over him, or the pain he caused. I'm doing this because of my own stupidity.'

'But you were stupid because of him-'

'Shut the bloody hell up!' She yelled her conscience as she slipped into darkness, not once seeing the man that stood at the door gaping at the bloody messy that was his beloved.

Okay, so if anyone recognizes this I used to write under the pen name valentines-hater, anywho, that email got hacked and I can't get back into my old account and I wanted to finish this story before I leave for basic.

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