Planted the seeds of your love,

in the dungeon of my heart,

where nothing grows but pain,

and blooded rose of regrets;

singing a melody of dismay

with the fragrance of anguish.

It bloom, i bleed mentally and physically.

My nose could cry a river in blood,

and catarrh running down to my lips.

My face is now a battle field,

covered with blood of a trembled heart;

yearning for unadulterated affection.

Rejection wreck havoc in my ship,

dragging me to the darkest cove,

where I cries and drowned in distress.

With no active compass to find my new rose,

I’m stuck between trying or crying;

Yes, flowers don’t bloom in the concrete.