I used to hold a rose of
Red
And soft to touch,
But you held my fingers
To the thorns,
That some times grow in love
Feelings
Love
Respect
Slowly dripped out
Falling from my
Heart
Yet still not noticing
The beauty within this
Rose.
Of,
Love
Died, withered petals
Feel from my heart
What was red,
Was no more.
All that fell from above
Were Black petals
A sign that love had dried up
Why could you not see the beauty
Instead of the **thorns.