The rose we're told is often red,
the image set deep in our head,
but what if it were pink or blue,
or something of a darker hue?

The rose we're told is often red,
the symbol of true love its said,
but what of pain or baser needs,
the lust for deep and sordid deeds?

The rose we're told is often red,
the petals scattered on the bed,
but what if we could change the track,
and have the petals painted black?