Sprouted from the firestorm deep within
the volcanic chasms of this rage.
Hell is abloom with unfurled petals
in the frost of my wintry reality.
This wild rose bloomed
with locomotive rage.
A blooming, wild child that grew
from depths so dark and stormy.
From this soul… now withering, slumping,
and dying over a grave shrouded in snow.









hello dearest Daniel this is very well written I can relate ❤️