Description
White rose blooming in the moonlight,
A symbol of purity amidst the dread,
With bloody hands, I claw through the dirt,
From the depths, I rise from the dead.
The earth, a grave that held me tight,
Its grasp, a reminder of the pain I fled,
But with each push, each desperate fight,
I feel the pulse, the promise ahead.
Bloody hands, stained with past regrets,
Yet they reach for the light overhead,
For in this soil, my rebirth sets,
A testament to the life I’ve led.
The white rose, pure, yet tinged with red,
Its petals whisper secrets unsaid,
Through the darkness, through the pain,
I rise, I comeback, I am born again.
In the quiet of the night, I stand,
The echoes of the past now shed,
With bloody hands, on sacred land,
I rise from the dead, no longer misled.