A pitiful rose glows in the moonlight
Radiance un-detained and precious
Its features, more beautiful than
Before, deep inside though, I know.
I feel as though the heart would break
For just like the rose, it is just as
Pitiful and weak; a rose is nothing more
Than hatred that seeks out it's prey in
Large numbers
A rose represents nothing, and should
Never be exemplified as such. For in
The years to pass we won't find ourselves
Talking about a rose. We will talk about
How much we had to endure just to get to
The point of receiving one; that's
A mystery in it's self
Look, if you want advice, when you see
A rose, do not love it, but hate that
We contain such a devastating piece of work.
The only thing that could ever destroy a human
Without touching them.