Faye Sizemore

THE BLACKEST ROSE… PTSD

Any who dares
To inhale the fragrance
Of the blackest rose
Should take a warning from me:
You cannot tame
Its viney thorns that grow…
Jagged and sharp
And dangerous with woe
They will pull you in…
Entangle you in their clasp
They will make you cry
And they will make you gasp
Contained in its’ vines
Are poisons… very… very strong
All that was ever right
Will seem to be wrong
It will rob you of sleep
And cause you to weep
Beware the warning signs
That spreads beyond the rose
Take it from one who knows
Who has observed it as it grows