I linger in the dark hours, 
Thinking of a flower,
The flower that betrayed me, 
Its beauty was unsurpassed,
The petals the perfect crimson,
No blotches, no spots,
No sign of decay,
The fragrance was of paradise, 
It took me away, 
To heights unknown,
It showed no signs of thorns,
But when I brought it close,
Close to my heart,
The thorns, hidden,
Grew and Grew,
Until they pierced the soul of me, 
Then, they spread, ripping me apart,
Tearing my spirit asunder,
and casting me into lasting darkness,
Caged now in my own asylum,
I cannot breath,
Without thinking of a flower...