Growing in the shadows,
the black and dark rose.
In swampland and cemetery,
in sunlight hard to oversee.

Like consuming the light,
the flower seems bright,
A dominant queen the night,
every thorn counts as her knight.

Such a powerful ingredient,
with the sweet rose scent.
Desired from black alchemists,
preparing curses and pests,

High degree poison, for a well,
meant for leaders to fell.
Liquid death prepared with ease,
bringer of death and disease.

Yet it is in the right hand,
a cure which can nearly anything mend.
As a toxins power is a matter of dose,
health bringer and harm are close.

Even a matter of preparation,
it can lead to potency and variation.
The black rose, a dangerous plant,
and sometimes a last hopes garant.

Feared and honored from those skilled,
many fates have been fulfilled.
From the ornament of magic nature,
a death source, mighty and pure.