The Rosen Maiden
This is the Part two of the story, you can read part one on
The Rosen Maiden
The Rosen maiden of tears and sorrow
Stares emptily like a broken sparrow
In my garden she walks barefoot on pieces of glass, smearing
The trail of blood she has drowned herself from within
Yet, she walks hunched broken and bound
Unwilling to be set free, not even to be found
She has enclosed herself behind the doors of my mind
Witnessing no night or day, demanding to be utterly blind
Yet into her seclusion came more agony and despair
Until the darkness she wished for ignited her gasps for air
Yet, she is a maiden in distress unable to be retrieved
From the darkness she with her own hands weaved
Bound by the mocking birds of fate she will shatter
And through her withering life she is destined to suffer
Disdain has come to watch her bleed
And haunting violating regrets breed,
Nothing but a spawn of darkness, empty with broken wings
So she is the nightingale that shrieks when it intends to sing
She was bound to life with sorrowful thorns
Until her body crumbles from its fatal burns
Alas, which rose is all beauty without pain?
Yet will the Rosen maiden bloom under the dying rain?
Towards the girl in my garden of sour grapes she walks
And wants me to cradle their pain, as each of them stalks
Alas, Am I destined to surpass my destiny and break this unending chain?
Nay, for every time I yank the chain I am reinforced with excruciating pain
Now both girls intertwine under my sour grape vines sharing their sorrow
Speaking of the disdain and unending cycle of pain promised by tomorrow
As both girls sink in their own flood of blood
The Rosen Maiden blooms a single black bud
Only this bud smells nothing but despair and scorn
For every trial in life to them was a deadly thorn
I stare at their reflection in an anonymous puddle of water
To watch both images shatter, combine and smother
The shattered pieces of a heart un-mended
Of a world that scars you eternally though unintended
Forming, two faces of the same coin, destined to destroy me
Yet will they ever let me yank that chain free?
As I stare into their shattering images I finally realize
That no matter how fast I run I can’t escape my demise
For by the end of the day, a rose by any other name
Will carry the same scent of death, and destructive flame
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