Poetry: In Shadows Blooms; The Black Rose's Story

A Black Rose

I am like a black rose,

Neither bloomed nor even dead.

To viewers, I am unique,

For having me would be a false dream.

The deeper my color, the purer my inner beauty,

No one can possess me,

For my worth is priceless.

I am evergreen, some may say,

But no one has asked about the pain I bear.

I am like a messy riddle,

One that no one can solve.

I am a dark home

Where not a single candle is lit.

I always prefer loneliness,

As the crowd scared me.

Loneliness taught me,

I am by my own in my beautiful journey.

I am a black rose,

Neither bloomed nor even dead.