blossoms.

I grew roses, and lilies and irises,
And maybe they'd be
Better company
Their colours and hues
Brighter and better
Than the darkest shades of people around.
The lilies were white, pristine and elegant
The colour of calm, they said it was
The color of endings, they did not say.
The irises were blue, royal and lively
The colour of peace and serenity alike
But they were also, the color of my wounds,
Fresh and ripe, hurtful and throbbing.
And then I grew roses, the deadliest of all
The red, the colour of love and passion
And also, the colour of the lurking evil
Together with its sinister deeds.
The flowers did little,
But bring back flashes
Of memories of hate,
And absolute cruelty
They are, no more
The symbols of beauty
For to me, they are
Bearers of grief
Merely in disguise.

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