A graveyard of roses

It lies behind her crimson tears, the sadness of having murdered her dreams.

It hides behind her mad smile, the burden of stabbing violently desire.

Stay quiet, and listen to her sobbing and screaming.
Stay still, and watch her aching and killing.

Can you smell the roses? She can't, but she hears their trembling voices.

Can you hear their despair? She does, but their lives she won't spare.

Their pretty petals were white, now they are stained in bloody wine.
Her flower garden once used to be alive, but now she has to use it as a graveyard.

Now instead of planting roses, she murders and buries her lovers.

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