He knows not of roses
But of the purest of hearts,
Enveloped in thorns
As his hands bathe in blood.
He sheds not a tear,
Nor does he wail in pain—
Simply embraces the beauty
As if it were of the finest gold—
And the pedestal of which he places
The purity is, too, protecting,
A single, solitary rose
Behind a wall of thorns,
Thick enough to shower a city
And show no remorse,
None at all.
Author notes
Ok...this one is retarded...wrote it in like 2 minutes to cure my urge to write.
Written August 9th, 2005
What did you think
Comments
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Thank you, I appreciate it.
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this was good for 2 mintutes, keep it up
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