Black Rose

The day I regret most now (not yesterday, not a year ago; I was happy then) was the day I found Kuroi bara – the black rose. Whenever I breathed in its perfume of iron and sweet flesh, I heard the earth’s heartbeat, its pulsing veins, and felt its thirst for dark blood. I sliced through men’s necks with joy, my cupped sticky hands feeding my dark master. Now my knife is caressing your throat, and a single drop of your beautiful red blood emerges, sings of life, and I understand. I had been fooled. Please live, Akio-san and forgive me.