The Black Rose, A poem By The Dark Poet Byron

The clock strikes 2 as nighttime fell
for he who wakes from dreaming self
I wake up quick, and catch my breath
and think of what a dream i had

But in my mind a thought does stir
and speaks to me of such a girl
The black rose stirs inside my dreams
and bares its thorns inside of me

For beauty grows inside this rose
contained in such a crimson form
with leaves like ink and blood stain red
The rose has touched this Poet's hands

For she is more than just a girl
who speaks of things i didnt know
Who walks inside my crimson rhymes
and binds my words to sacrifice

My precious rose, of deep red glow
you showed me things that saved my soul
So as i speak of blood stain red
and bind ur form to my embrace

i give this gift of random verse
and speak of her. The One black Rose

A Poem By The Dark Poet Byron

Beauty can be found in a black rose. Its deep and endless. dear and passionate.
The flower i'd protect with my very hands. Thank you for the wonderful part you play in my life.