A beautiful rose,
In a bright shade of pink,
Isn’t quite as pretty,
As what you came to think…
Travel down the soft petals,
Still wet with morning dew,
Glistening brightly in the sun,
Taking hold of you…
But then you reach the stem,
In the dullest shade of green,
With long and rigid thorns,
At first so overseen…
The thorns with their sharp edges,
The flower that blooms in the spring,
The terrors hiding behind beauty,
Disguising the pain it may bring…
Beware because what you get,
Isn’t always what you see,
Evil lurks behind good looks,
And it will not let you be…
