Literature
Choose the end
A rose left on a throne of thorns,
Her flower yet to bloom.
The path to her awakening spells
Both salvation,
And utter doom.
The prince who’d free her from the vines,
Binding tighter than iron chains,
Is trapped within a tower,
Where after ten years,
He still remains.
Strong enough to remake the world,
Yet fragile enough to break within,
Our wayward rose on her thorn built throne,
Has to find where all things end,
In order to begin.
She will follow the river of dreams,
Whose sighs and aching screams,
Cut deeper than any knife,
In order to find
The tree of sorrows,
The flower of joy,
And lastly,
The seed of life.
Heaven’s sufferi