You see a rose of white, but
is a disguise, for its thorns
like razors.

For when the blood drops
in the petals blood red do
absorb the nourishment now
even whiter the blood gone
no longer on show,

For all that is white is not
always pure, for under this
disguise there is a truth hidden
from the eyes. For the beauty
hides danger, hidden from
your eyes.