• There's a type of flower-
    That knows just how i feel-
    It's blackness reaches towards me-
    And it's thorns embrace my skin-
    I wonder at times about the blood that flows-
    The red turns to black-
    And the lights turn from grey to gone-
    I wonder if it's feeling like me-
    Does it feel hurt and outcast or alone?-
    The black petals are so beautiful in a fragile way-
    And like me is sensitive to touch-
    No one can come near do to the sharp thorns-
    And the coldness of the stem shows just how sad she is-
    But if you hold her...love her, and prove to her you care-
    The stem will become warm, and the petals will turn-
    The black will flee and in it's place-
    A perfectly crimson velvet red-
    With a softness that no one else can see.