Leo

Gunpowder sweet as the scent of a dozen roses. 
Just as lovely, too, red as it sparks and drips as petals fall. 
Change is the deity that casts everything a new form. 
What was will be gone, and what was gone will be once again. 
If a rose can create love from hate and gunpowder can bleed hate from that love, does that make me a god? 

(T)

~E