Leichenengel

A rose sat on the table, He promised it would never die, And when it was worn and withered, I did not cry. It's not what I expected, I knew the rose would not grow, Into a lumbering, majestic tree, That in the wind would flow. The petals fell, one by one, Browned under the burning sun, Scattered across the table and chairs, Worn and withered without a care. And when the rose finally snapped, I let out a deep sigh, The weight of the world, Broke its' neck, But I did not cry. I already knew what to think, When I saw your face, But I learned how not to speak, When it wasn't my time or place. I played your little game, And w