The Dead Rose

by Tyler Hebert

With clinched hands, he closed his lids only to envision numerous reflections, that of himself, residing in a coffin of a bed.

Metal bars surrounding open windows enabled light of the full moon to showcase, for the last time, walls hosting this sacred place of remorse.

His eyes presented his skin with a substance that proclaimed innocence as it slowly covered his  haunted body with a reflection of nothing more than one’s betrayed existence.

Two cold hands, those of his own, gently covered his shattered heart that sheltered now only that of sorrow and despair.

The air within grew colder as a large shadow, that of a raven, presented itself upon the wall to witness the vanishing of one’s depressed soul.

Eager it be, the raven claimed his treasure by dropping a dead rose into the condemned water below that finalized yet another unholy suicide.