This is the opening poem to "Last Days", which is a book of my crime scene makeup and photography.

Roese are Dead
by Gerrold
9/28/98 - 7:40 p.m.

Roses are Dead.
Violets are, too.
You'll never know,
How much I love you!

Roses are Dead.
Violets are, too.
I lay awake,
Thinking of you!

Roses are Dead.
Violets are, too.
Your floor Squeaks,
Because I'm near you!

Roses are Dead.
Violets are, too.
Your asleep,
And I see you!

Roses are Dead.
Violets are, too.
Pleace don't scream,
When I touch you!

Roses are Dead.
Violets are, too.
My heart races,
As I choke you!

Roses are Dead.
Now you are, too.
But I'm so happy,
Because I'll always have you!

By Gerrold - 1995

Starting form scratch
Again and again
Blindly living
But where dose it end

I hear the wispers
I take the blame
Cuesless to fates
Twisted game

I feel the shadows
Touching me
I can't express
My apanthy

Images flashing
In my head
Misunderstood
And mislead

Rose petal wings
Flutter by
The hungry snakes
Around me sigh

Eye brows lifting
The words embrase
The fear is coming
The tears will chase

Engulf my soul
Feel me with dread
Set me free
Or send me to bed

Sadly I know
Your words are not your own
Yet the darkend rainbows
Must smile and condone

Laughing people
Are all around
My nerves are lost
Nowhere to be found

Standing in the crouwd
Yet all alone
Hinding in the open
My bruises unshown