Roses don't have thorns, but ******;
And there's one rose in particular
That I'm stuck in love with.
And as the name suggests,
She's an annoying sting in my side;
I can't remove her with brute force or ignorance,
Try as I might.
She was a star's light,
Beautiful, yet so distant and cold;
But she went supernova,
And ****** me into the remaining black hold,
That's too strong to escape;
However, I'm happy to die there,
But it would be nice to see the world again,
And live a life not surrounded by her.
We need to talk this over,
'Cause the slashes are nearing the bone;
And I'm terribly frightened that, eventually,
She'll eat me out of house and home.
She's not all things to all men,
But she'd adopt the position perfectly;
Humanity, I argue, would cease to exist.
To back up this claim, just take a look at me.
Written whilst I was supposed to be working. She is relentless.