The Black Rose

In the garden of life,
Amidst the blooms of colors bright,
Lies a flower of darkness,
A black rose, a symbol of the night.

Its petals as dark as coal,
Its thorns sharp as blades,
A beauty born of death,
A love that never fades.

Beneath the moon’s pale light,
It blooms in silent grace,
A somber reminder of mortality,
A flower of another place.

Its fragrance, sweet yet deadly,
A poison for the soul,
A symbol of a love that’s lost,
Of hearts that never made whole.

Oh, black rose, you speak of pain,
Of a love that’s doomed to die,
Of a beauty that’s both cursed and blessed,
Of a life that’s but a sigh.

So let us cherish this flower of darkness,
Embrace its gothic allure,
For in its thorns and petals lies a truth,
That life is both beautiful and obscure.

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Katarzyna Dovganyuk-Krym

An aspiring poet with a passion for self-expression, I am somewhat Belarusian and wholly Polish. I enjoy spending my time writing and drawing, and other creative endeavors. Despite daily struggles with non-24, ME/CFS, and SPCD, I persevere in pursuing my interests and goals.

Latest posts by Katarzyna Dovganyuk-Krym (see all)

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