My mother raised me right from wrong,
Saying that I shouldn’t trust a nice gesture.
But somehow the roses you brought,
Also came with a side affect, pain.

The red roses are my favorite,
They are epitome of love and lust.
However, these roses, had invisible torns,
You pricked me, you loved me,
You destroyed me.

Now thanks to you, I cannot trust another rose.
Any love comes with pain, thanks to you,
I now realize this.

I should’ve listened to my mother.