The people I love are roses.
They are beautiful and delicate.
I want to keep then in a pretty vase.
Safe from the harsh world.
The people I hate are thorns.
They are ugly and sharp.
I want to toss them aside.
Out in the dirty rain.
I wrap my roses in a neat boquet.
Putting them on display for you.
The roses bring a smile to my face.
Healing my anguish and pain.
I wrap my thorns in paper bag.
Putting them in the trash.
The thorns bring tears to my eyes.
Injuring my hands, letting blood out.
I love my roses.
I hate my thorns.
But sometimes I love wrong things.
Sometimes I love the wrong people.
Sometimes, I love my thorns.
And sometimes they love me back.
