Share 'Bed of Roses'

Clocks ticking in the dark. Mind is running- where did it start? Caught in her haze of red; it goes over and over through her head. Dancing back and forth- spinning between extremes; Facades, unwillingly, sometimes it seems. She twirls upon the rooftop, swirling spirits and smiles and swings; But sits sheepishly across the candlelight, dodging questions, fingering silver rings. The road trave...