I am holding onto the thorns of the rose,
It pains me, I bleed, I cry.

It pains me, I bleed, I cry,
Yet I am still holding onto it.

I am so bewitched by its beauty,
That I didn't notice it slowly withering,

I was so into loving it,
That I didn't notice, it isn't immortal,
And it will wither,
Breaking my soul.

It pains me, I bleed, I cry
Not because of the thorns but it withering.

Just as it,
I was so into loving him,
I didn't notice his love withering,
I forgot one's love isn't always immortal as mine is.
I didn't see him leave.....
Breaking my soul.

It pains me, I bleed, I cry
Not because him leaving me is painful,
But him not loving me as I love him is.