Dead crimson roses lay above us,
Their petals once kissed by dawn's first light,
Now rest upon a bed of time.
The dead rocks churn with agony,
Silent witnesses to time's cruel flow,
As they hear the albatross cry for its mariners,
Souls lost in sublime.
Through the bustling crowds, they roam,
Each heart a universe of its own,
Yet amidst the noise and rush,
A sense of loneliness begins to crush.
In this labyrinth of dreams and despair,
They yearn to find a soul laid bare,
A connection in this sea of faces,
To fill their void, their hearts' empty spaces.
With each sip, the poison's taste,
A bitter reminder about life,
Yet, in its venom, they find release,
An escape from sorrow.
But the albatross soars in the sky,
It cries a song of hope and redemption,
For amidst the thorns, they found light.