Thorns on the rose
How they tear
Same red as the flower

Pours from me
After these words
Now mean nothing

So pretty it was
The rose that cut me
Am I suppose to learn
Everything will hurt
Especially a rose so pretty

Its already cut too deep
Still I hold it
And run it up & down my arm
Making rivers out of red
Hoping to starve my heart
So I never ever
Feel this way again

10/10/2001

Posted on 10/10/2001
Copyright © 2025 Ryan M Evon