The Rose
Delicate little thing in bloom,
How short your life will be.
You shall serve purpose
For games of cruelty that
One who is bored plays.
Your soft beauty, yetYour strong stem
Will show that you are perfect
For Her dark purpose.
Skies weep for you,
Poor unfortunate thing, but
What can they do?
No one can save the foolish humans,
Why should anything save you?
