Black Rose Poem by jack green

The edge of nothing is sharp as a blade.
Honed by the journey and mistakes I've made.
Creeping behind me from cradle to grave.
Seeking the passage to wisdom.

Whispers of ghost drift on an uneasy wind.
Chilling the air with a gaze from no friend.
Cuts through the soul exposing the sin.
Committed while chasing the devil.

Hoping my next mistake bring to a close.
The quest I followed that darkened my soul
Arriving to late to save the black rose.
Or even a chance to see one.