Aging and withering from time

The discoloration is so sublime

The rose we had used to shine

But this aging turned it to grime

Color is falling from this rose

The stains in each thread compose

The dreaded memories that you want to dispose

The rose now lays, with a death defying pose

The living was drained from this life

The reaper is standing there, along with his scythe

Staring in the eyes of death, there's no sign of strife

The discolored rose, has been stabbed with a knife