desire pulses from my fingertips
slowly finding its way down my spine
the rays of a luminating sun above me
leaps and dances upon my poised hand
that inches forward to the menacing thorns
protruding from the sweet illusion of roses

roses, they are just so wicked yet lovely
its sweet enthralling scent draws you in
and you are inevitably its prisoner
reveling in the suffering and torment
but this quiet misery means nothing
for my fingertips will continue their lusting
to experience the true pain of beauty