A black rose is like a black swan,
One day admired, the next day all wrong,
One day expected, another one feared,
One day rejected, another revered.
Barely visible, barely there,
Black like old blood, like a blind stare.
Like a black swan, it emerges and strikes,
Changing the quiet direction of lives.
It blooms without warning, then silently dies—
Dark as a secret, and deeper than lies.
Black rose
© Copyright: Королева-Пенская, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125120105674
Свидетельство о публикации №125120105674
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