Love is a bright red rose and is beauty itself
Along the rich green stem are sharp thorns that are stained with blood
A rose that you reach to grab to hold a love so close as blood flows from yourself
A sweet flower growing with no thorns yet a sweet young rose bud
The longer you hang on to the rose the sharper the thorns grow
Love a once sweet rose wilt and die within your hold and slowly will you too
You try to hang on for as long as you can as the thorns dig deep within as you’re forced to let go
Love once so true fades away as will you
