Soft white petals

Stained with red

Lay upon

My burned up bed

The trees outside

Rested them there

The small soft petals

They handled with care

The red is blood

They told me so

The blood of man

Shed with sorrow

And when the trees

Found the stained petals

They were pierced

Upon some nettles

They cried some tears

They were pure as gold

They picked them up

Their colors bold

And when they shed

Their tears upon

It killed the body

Of a baby fawn

Guilty of death

The petals cried

Not once but twice

They always lied

Their little bodies

So gentle and pure

Was all but

The cruelest lure

To pull away

Their dark cold covers

Was to unleash

Its ragged powers

They may be soft

And kind of course

But they are but mad

Their voices hoarse

The always cried

The yells of pleading

But yet their bodies

Never bleeding

The trees were sad

They felt rejected

When all they did

Was make life perfected

Rest their limbs

For they have done

The worst of things

They killed my son