This is a poem I wrote a couple of days ago. It's one of my favorites actually. I think I like it so much because of the imagery, and I've always had this thing for certain flowers, the rose being one of them. The Blood-Red Rose is in fact representative, it's not merely a pointless poem about flowers. I don't want to just ruin what it's about though, I hope between you and your imagination you can interpret it. After all, it should be really easy to realize what it represents. It's pretty much right out there.
The Blood-Red Rose
The rose
Blood-red
The blood-red rose
Perfectly created
So delicate
So beautiful
Can be crushed in an instant
A snap, and its life is snuffed out
Its fragrance
Sweet and enticing
Holds so many dreams
So many passions
Yet so quickly it fades
How long
How long
Will it adorn the field?
It attempts to hold off its inevitable fate
It grasps at life
Its petals reaching for sun
Its roots for water
It wants life
They all do
How much can it get?
How much will it suck up?
Before its short life is over
Here a second
Gone the next
It's the blood-red rose
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