The Last Rose

I write this poem some months ago and actually posted it, but then quickly took it down when I realized I could do better for it. So I changed some things around, and I will say it relates to my current place in life in a way. When I say ‘last rose’ I mean the last good thing. The thing I woke up to live for, being gone or becoming unimportant. This is about how that can happen, and when I don’t know what to do to move on, I just want to give up.

This morning’s golden halo
Torched and withered my last rose
Insanity is getting bold
Such misery…I cannot cope

Tears are slipping down my throat
Disturbed shards of a broken soul
Blades and sorrow hold me close
Dreaming far, of dark and cold

Skinless, grotesque, predisposed
Self-destruction’s all I know
Embrace my inner Scorpio
I have a future to disown

I can’t fix the status quo
Life takes too long to let me go
My lies receive a second coat
Pretend to live knowing I won’t

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1 Comment

Filed under Art, Death, Life, personal, poems, poetry

One response to “The Last Rose

  1. lucienlachance

    You’re so poetic, it’s crazy :) Everything flows so well together in this poem. It’s both dark and pretty coincidingly. It reminds me of when I wake up the the morning, and that aching feeling that I get when the realization hits that I’ve survived another night.

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