Dying Rose

Here I hold a single rose in my hand
So frigile and so tender
It's life already taken away
It's petals will soon whither and dry
It's sweet smell will then fade away
The beauty it once held
Will turn ugly and grey
The sharp thorns will sink deep into my flesh
Sucking my blood to substain its own hunger for life
It's long elegant stem twines around my fingers
My blood,
Dark red,
Runs smoothly down my arm
Forming droplets on my elbow
And eventually falling down to the red pool below
All colour drains from the rose itself
As it drains my own liquid that keeps me alive
And the rose that I picked
For it's beauty and sweet scent
Now dies in my hand
But not alone
It brings me with it