The Rose as white as fresh fallen snow
Its thorns are sharp and cold
It turns from white to red
When the thorns find their way into a new victim
Its poison is like a drug
Once you prick your thumb
You do it over and over
Suddenly you're poisoned to the core
And you're lost forever more
The Beast who comes to claim your essence
Its presence
Makes your skin crawl
Dare to look into its eyes
You'll lose all will to sympathise
You'll lose all feelings inside
It'll suck out your soul and bury the body to feed The Rose
YOU ARE READING
Rose and The Beast
PoetryA rule I have broken was to pluck the rose and turn it from white to red. I've lost all feelings for them instead.
