Dead

My rose is red, but still no dead. I will kill all who stood my fate. I will fart to kill all that is led to my doors. There’s no one to kill but the rats in front of the hole. I see my soul in the hole of death itself. Where it will take me away but I want to stay. I lay to sleep on my seep bed instead I eat where nothing can be found. The sound of fear can be heard from my ears. But I hear nothing from above but the cheer. My blood is dripping and I sip it up to bring myself some dear. My fear is dead but lead is in my heart.