The soft velvet petals do not caress my eyes,
But burn in my heart like fiery daggers.
Each petal holds a trapped memory
Grasped tightly by the jagged thorns.
The delusional beauty is but a mirage
Fooling your naive & whimsical mind.
All is lost in a stare, in a gaze,
For the rose seizes the weary hearts.
Gawk at them, gloat, give into the demands
Of what its real intentions are;
Beauty is just death in disguise.





2 old applause
