I look out side my window and see it.
This outrageous rose brush .
It wasn't the best roses I had ever seen, but its colors were ...
vibrant?
No.
Passionate .
I stepped outside with out shoes.
I liked the feeling of wet grass,
the smell of the air.
Everything seemed so fresh.
I began to worry the closer I came.
The rose bush suddenly began to rot.
Sympathy rolled over me, so I reached out to touch it.
That mistake wrapped around my arm,
made its way around my body,
and then covered my mouth.
The thorn covered branches made cuts and gashes all along my skin.
As I bled,
the reds became more violent,
yet the whites seemed more pure.
As the colors began to steal feelings,
I crumbled.
With out even trying the roses swallowed me whole.
With out any resistance,
I let it over power me.