By Arcassin Burnham

To find a perfect love in someone else's arms
And finding the courage to intrude,
Don't fall into a thorn bush , the sharpness of
It all might get into you,
Bleed the blood of a man who wants to know where the beauty originated and confirm the most vital information to finding bliss in these woods,
Not enough love in the world to help a sick
Person,
Or a cancer patient,
Or a dying family member,
The rose dies in the end anyway,
There's no use for the sad songs or pianos that play almost frequently when there's something bad happening,
It feeds on the eternal struggle,

don't get a cut.