“The Red Rose Black” It fixates its attention on me. Creeping in from the darkness all around, slowly I can see the faces, dim, hazy. Lost altogether in insincerity, would a scream make its way to aid’s ear? Walls shrink then implode around the red rose, then grow and explode with the faces of fear. They reach out to me with their ghostly arms, and all I can do is huddle into terrors embrace. It’s as if this very room holds contempt for me, ever side has a hate-filled story to tell, every splinter has a face. Cryptic crimson lines draw themselves into my eye sight. The faces begin to whisper divergent confusing conclusions into the night. These cunning words whispered; foolery plays well to my fancy, soon to become my folly. Ill-humored thoughts instigating, my body shudders in the blasting chill of my insanity. All my senses cease to function; this sixth is what is maturing. I have to fight this fright, but my sweat shows me failing. Eyes grow tired, with tedious tension building in my veins. But what is this, the red rose black, growing blacker and blacker in the rain. Its pretty peddles like that of stone, all in one it’s left alone. Sins of the past that once parted are back it seems to reap what has been sown. From red to black, blood boils inside as the face’s words penetrate. Reaction sparks ill-reasoned retribution on all I hate. But where is God’s divine intervention, has He turned his back from my now hideous appearance? Shunned and despised I am, listened I did, now fall forever I will into non-existence.
That is probably the best poem I've read here on the LPA. No joke at all. That is absolutely stunning. Great work.