Withered

A withered rose
Under the silver moonlight
Along with the sweet song of the wind
And the gentle caress of the rain
Longing care from the heavens
Longing care from above
O heavens cry out to it
Hear it's melancholy song
O heavens in which hands you put it
A withered rose's care
A fragile thing under great pain
May be plucked without remorse
With hate and with lust
From dawn till dusk
What is such judgement passed upon
The poor withered one
Gazing under the silver streak of moonlight
Under the commanding gaze of the sky
Shall look upon the poor withered one
And protect it from the devilish one