Beauty Smothered In Flame

Beauty Smothered In Flame

An orange rose rises from the dark soil,

Petals bright as a fading sunset,

Yet black edges creep along its skin,

Like night swallowing the last light.

The rose should have lived in gardens,

Under quiet skies and gentle rain,

But red flames curl around its stem,

Hungry tongues devouring its grace.

Orange petals tremble in the heat,

Their beauty fighting the choking fire,

Black shadows burn into every edge,

Until colour begins to cry.

Who lit this cruel burning crown,

Who turned a flower into a warning,

Why must such fragile beauty suffer,

Inside the furnace of this world?

The red flames close in tighter now,

Wrapping the rose in restless fury,

Petals once glowing with soft life,

Now drowning in brutal fire.

Black edges spread like silent grief,

A scar around each fragile petal,

Orange light flickers through the smoke,

Trying to breathe through the flames.

Still the rose stands in the blaze,

A small brave heart inside the fire,

Though flames rise and shadows deepen,

Its beauty refuses to bow.

But the burning grows fierce and wild,

Red flames roar across the petals,

Orange fades into trembling light,

While smoke climbs into the sky.

And there within the raging heat,

The rose becomes a dying lantern,

Black edged petals falling slowly,

Beauty smothered in flame.

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