Rose is the blooming spirit as it sprouts anew,
Ruddy cheeks wailing their first breath, parental hands hushing the coo.
Ink is the dimmer times as life unfurl,
Screaming cries into darkness, as emotions whirl.
Growth is the strength to rise above,
Gasping lungs full of fresh air, ribs constricting like a glove.
Rose is the red of the bleeding sky,
Rhythmical instruments, the weeping hearts cry.
Ink is the flow of conscious to page,
The brain haemorrhaged and the world a stage.
Growth is the evolution of life in its course,
The path all souls walk, filled with no remorse
Rose is the queen reigning over her deck,
Painted flowers drip as she moves her pawn, check.
Ink is the sky full of stars at night,
Twinkling crystals illuminate the vastness, shining bright
Growth is the plants as they sow their roots
Branches reaching towards the sky, undergrowth crunching ‘neath boots
Rose am I and the rose is me
Ink is the darkness through which I see
Growth is the life into which I breathe
All of these things make up whom I be
A/N: I had an assignment to write a poem using three words I feel are “mine.”
This piece was the result :)
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