Something simple Something pure Something peaceful It talks no more For all its history Written in blood Red roses are lovely The color of blood People adore them Why not? For roses are lovelies Drenched in blood People love people adore They give as a token Of love But love is not so simple Not always pure People have died for those they loved They gave them roses Drenched in blood

Roy Rogers used to live an average life with average money. He had an average family, no siblings, a mother and a father. Roy was 13 years old when he found the last place he would ever see. A week earlier: Roy was walking home from school, it was the late 6o’s in Holly Springs, Mississippi. As Roy walked up the driveway to the door, he heard a loud crash and profanity leaking through the door's cracks. Roy thinking somet...