i walked though the snow,
in a black silk kimono,
as i clutch the black rose tighter,
the cold wind pushes another tear off my face.

my long black hair dancing in the wind,
the blood dripping from my hand,
but i keep holding on to the thorns,
because its the only thing i have.

the coldness,
the darkness,
the pain,
and the sadness.

the tears come faster,
but i stay strong,
trying to get to the end,
without dying.

i drop to my knees,
the cold finally pushing me down,
the grim reaper coming for me,
i let my soul rest.

i awake from my cold dream,
in my normal life,
and traces of blood,
lead to the black rose of my dream.