Bloody Rose A Poem

In gardens of sorrow, a bloodied rose weeps, Its petals, once vibrant, now stained and torn. A tale of passion, etched in crimson deep, Love's beauty tarnished, its essence forlorn. Once cherished, it bloomed with grace and delight, A symbol of ardor, devotion delight. Yet shadows of time cast a somber blight, Leaving scars of longing, in silence unbound. Each thorn, a reminder of love's embrace, The pain and the pleasure entwined, never ceased. But still, in its frailty, a poignant grace, The bloodied rose whispers of love's masterpiece. Through trials and tribulations it arose, A testament to love's enduring prose.