A Black Rose

Old stuff

There she is
Black rose upon the vine
I pluck it from the vine
But only to make it mine

On the rose lie thorns
They are ever so sharp
When one pricks my finger
Another pricks my heart

And like all flowers I have picked
This one dies, it's true
But in its wake, a grave mistake
Lies an unmistakable tomb

"Here lies Bran" it reads
In flowing script from pen
"He certainly died old and lonely"
What happened with his life then?

Did his friends all leave him,
For some other cause?
Or was he just an asshole,
This, it gives me pause.

What happened to his loved ones
Can they not be found?
"They would not stick around you,
Not even if they were bound."

What of his family,
Whom he cared so much.
"They all lost contact with him
And shied from his touch."

Everybody left 'ol Bran
They left him up to dry
And no one mourned the death of Bran
Their all glad he died.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

3-24-03 It just flowed, And it seems to work, I've left my talent And my quirks For now I write Because I've wronged The ones I love That I praise in song.

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Katie Rives's picture

I like it....only you used "their" instead of "they're" in the last line..but still quite good nonetheless

branbran's picture

It's kinda funny, because a

It's kinda funny, because a few years ago I became this huge grammar nazi. I'm not going to edit my old works, even if they have mistakes like incorrect 'their's etc, because that's how I wrote them.