She was a flower, gentle and fair,
No greenhouse sheltered her from storms she had to bear.
A tragedy took her family away,
Her fiancé too, met a grim end that day.
She sought revenge with a dagger so keen,
But found a truth crueler than she'd ever seen.
Her hatred burned, her vengeance gained,
Yet this only brought her more pain.
Her fiancé was the culprit, a bitter truth found.
Her lover and worst foe, already in the ground,
“The dead cannot speak, but if I bring him back to life—”
By Indies' name, she will make it right.
In the greenhouse, thorns started to appear,
She became a blood rose, spreading fear.
“Return to me, all that you owe—”
“Love, truth, and death,” her wishes are told.
