The red hooded reaper

Clothed in crimson red

Drags lost souls

To their eternal bed

She plants them in the roses

Where their petals wilt and lay

And gifts them a peaceful rest

For life has gone astray

She whispers to their souls

As they drift up high

For their souls can never die

Even as the body does decay

And when the flowers sing

Their melencholy song

She mourns all those she burries

And the roses sing along