Its petals are laced
with the most powerful,
And addictive drug.
Its petals are stained red,
By the blood of the young,
And the blood of the old.
Its petals carry on their delicate folds,
The entirety of life’s desires,
And a whole army of the guilty.
People pray to escape it’s chains,
People pray for forgiveness,
Unknown of the true source
Of their sins.
How can one free himself
From the razer thorns,
That impale and cut every inch,
Of his sore, beaten body?
Some embrace the pain,
Others attempt to ignore it.
But like the reeking scent of decay,
It will always come back,
To enslave you under its veiny leaves.
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