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 twoaway. The Christmas feast was going on, no one would look for her in here.
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 told 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.
A/N okay…I guess I shouldn't be starting a new story but I'm not the happiest person in the world at this point in time so bare with me! It'll turn out to be a short story, and hopefully get my plot bunnies working for my other two.
Please R&R!! And I'll try to post like really quickly!