My dress was white
It was a conventional wedding
I dreamt with a prince
But I was happy only the first year!
I do not understand how everything started
He used to scream at me
And than he used to bring me roses
It was not my birthday
It was not our anniversary
It was not a special day
I thought he loved me
But I was cheating myself.
Today, after he broke my mouth
He brought me roses again
I only wanted to believe
That he adored me
Today, for the last time
He brought me roses
They were as black as my luck
Out of each thorn blood was dripping
It was the blood I lost
When he had beaten me
Because I didn't call the emergency phone number
I am buried today
In the garden of my patio
I hope someday somebody finds out
About my death
So they know
All I have suffered
Behind the door
The day he brought me roses.


Raquel Ponce de Baas         9. September 2001