The Red rose killer

By Daisy Sasangan 

I kept holding on to the dead rose,

Dead it was indeed.

I struck the life out of it,

When I pluck it, from the

Red blooming rose tree,

Something came over me.

I don’t know why I wanted the rose.

Perhaps I felt greedy, but darkness filled me.

I kept plucking dozen of roses from the tree,

I could smell their freshness drift to the smell of death.

I felt pleasure doing this.

squeezing them so tight with my bare hands,

As if I were to strangle them.

I began to hit the roses against a huge tree

I felt pleasure as the petals fall to the ground

With grace.

I stomp on the petals I don’t know why   

But it made me felt better

I got the anger out of me, but it made me a killer.