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Black Roses
October 8, 2009
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
My roses come from
dark matter too.
Black as night,
sharp as knives,
they love you too.
Many like you,
think their
cruel.
Not too many
know their
true.
Out for blood,
just like you.
Not known yet,
though soon.
Death awaits,
you.
You who think
they’re so cruel.
You jus in line,
for your new you.
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