The mere petal of a rose is a myth to humanity,
we all believe fallacies: 'a gift from prosperity'
the captivating aroma, the vivacious colour,
presumptuous beauty, equal to each other,
but a single prick of a thorn,
is the simple reason of an expression, forlorn,
for the tint of crimson eternally grows,
blood is the silenced reason for a true red rose.
YOU ARE READING
Reminisce
Poetry~ Words leak through minds, like too much ink does to paper. They spread silently like diseases and blossom like the non-existent amaranthine in spring. ~ (COVER NOT MINE) (All rights reserved) (A collection of rhyming poems. Part 2 out now) (Hig...
