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About
For upon a rose a thorny delight.
Death was behind a war of blight.
The rose grew meek and drew a final breath.
For in this war there was only death.
But a shattered soul had found this rotted devil.
And raised it with glee upon a higher level.
This little rose grew to have much power.
For its vine was strong as a tower.
In its time of need the rose was given hope.
For a friend was all that was needed to help it cope.
For the rose had grew with thorns like a knife.
As its saviour was finished and lost their life.
For the rose couldnt run from the infernal flame.
And it suddenly had thought "is this a game?"
Running from their thoughts the rose grew.
Until it had made life, a world anew.
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