Love

I curse you delicate rose,
How is it that you bloom so,
So sweet the scent and deep the red,
When all that is within you dead,
As you pricked the prick that never bled,
Your roots grew deep beneath the earth,
And dug the grave that then gave birth,
To the immortal bleeding seed,
That you did so much wish to be,
Then sucked the life out of your love,
As a single day was not enough,
So your love it seems could not be swayed,
And the petals will so fall away,
Then free your sin that you may die,
And shed that blooming petal lie.