How can life grow from the ground of blood?

My steps are stained

With crimson red blood.

The air is filled with

Sweet scents of rose bud.

Tragedy was here,

Death in its presence.

Yet the rose bushes flourish

Despite darkness’s essence.

Through the path built on blood

I walk to find green grass again.

Tragedy never lasts forever,

But beauty of roses grows time and time again.