He turns his back to me,
A exasperated attempt to flee,
Those feelings which arose,
Those feelings of a rose,
Seemingly sweet aroma of scarlet,
Yet one touch makes a harlot,
Thorns protrude and penetrate your skin,
Against good nature to your kin.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
He turns his back to me,
A exasperated attempt to flee,
Those feelings which arose,
Those feelings of a rose,
Seemingly sweet aroma of scarlet,
Yet one touch makes a harlot,
Thorns protrude and penetrate your skin,
Against good nature to your kin.