Reaver
By Mira Noel
A wicked flower slowly withers
An eternity to wash away the soul
That once bloomed in a paradise
That quickly faded into shadow
And though the petals
Are beautiful
With their hedonistic array of colour
There are too many thorns
Guarding the fragile heart within
No one can touch it
All who try
Have died away
Alone in shadow
A wicked flower withers