Elegant lines flourish in the black earth of sorrow.
A flower of hurt, its petals, crimson red;
Blood its rain and suffering its sunshine.
Its wan beauty found only in darkness,
a luminous light, an eerie glow to illuminate angst.
It thrives on neglect, this denizen of sadness.
Loneliness only adds a softer shade to the radiance
Rejection tones the sleek and willowy form.
Torment and torture cause it to blossom more quickly,
But this bloom does not fade even half so swiftly
It merely grows, and feasts in the gloom.
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