Oct 2018
Beautiful roses, growing in a field
But unknown to me; the weapons they wield
I know they’re sweet
I know they’re pretty
I know that their thorns are a pity
But
They’ll always be beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
They’ll always be beautiful but full of thorns.
But unknown to me; the weapons they wield
I know they’re sweet
I know they’re pretty
I know that their thorns are a pity
But
They’ll always be beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
They’ll always be beautiful but full of thorns.
This poem was a suggestion of a friend. We were talking about how people are like roses, beautiful on the outside, full of thorns on the inside.
