rhyme scheme: ABAB

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Dead Roses and Tea

Once red roses lie rotten in a round table,
A lady sat face bewildered,  she wasn't able to grasp its meaning when it's still vibrant with vigor,
Never had been bothered with the rather eccentric smell of the rotting flowers and the tea bag she spilled and in shambles,
Sipping her nth time of tea,  she remembers home where her tears were the only thing she could savor.

The lady was rather weird to say the least,  motioning her body to face a high wall,
Gripping her tea cup so hard as if it's not the numerous times she broke it before,
Will things be different when the walls crumble? Anticipation made her skin tremble,
She didn't wish for this chaotic tea party where even herself was clueless how to win her own favor.

A party should be enjoyed by few,  yet she never made a call,
Afraid that their presence be that the same of the lifeless roses waiting for Hades' welcoming shore,
It's not that she couldn't entertain some guests,  in fact,  she could be a funny troll.
It's the suffocating thought of a repeat from all the wasted water she carelessly shed on the cold floor.

She lay her tired back on her chair,  too tired to even think of taking a stroll,
Staring at the clear sky,  she thought of planting the dead roses,  it'll live for sure.
She could hope or if no avail,  she could arrange its own funeral where she'll bury it in a small hole.
Wear all black and shed her tears which are her tea's long-time flavor.