Not sure if this counts as a poem but what ever.

Kurama is a rose.

A rose is beautiful.
But the rose has thorns,
Protecting its beauty.
Its a strong defense.

A rose can bring a smile.
To light up a loved ones face,
Or just passing stranger.

But a rose can bring pain.
A rose is thrown when someone has died.
A rose can represent a sad fare well,
It does not even have to be a sad one.
It could represent a short, bitter,
Snuff of a person's bond with another.

Roses smell heavenly.
Their aroma will fill the air.
Calming the anger, soothing the best.
But, just because it smells nice,
Doesn't mean its dangerous.

A wasp could be waiting hidden by the petals.
A poison to get rid of bugs, could be on the rose.
If the poison somehow gets inside,
By digestion, or a prick of the thumb, sending a poisoned thorn in,
A being, could get seriously injured.

Roses appear delicate, and weak.
They're stronger than they seem.
Certain roses will wrap around your fence,
Or start climbing up your wall.
To get rid of them, you must dig deep to get to the root.
Or you may not get rid of them ever.

Roses do die.
They age, or they are picked.
And they are dead.
But every spring, or even sooner,
The roses come back.
Maybe stronger than before.

If roses could talk,
Would they share some wistful stories?
Or possibly, tales of a family that cared for them?
Maybe they could be humorous,
Telling us all the odd strange events in their lives.

Over all, roses are more than what they seem.
They are weak, yet they aren't.
They die, but will always return.
They are lovely, but dangerous.
Roses, are a mystery.
You can never know too much about a rose.

Kurama is a rose.