He was a daisy,
Fresh and pretty,
Harmless,
Always there to brighten up your mood.
Or so it seemed.
He was a snowdrop,
White and innocent,
Powerless,
Offering the hope of better days ahead.
Or so it seemed.
In reality he was a rose,
Looking beautiful from afar,
Drawing you closer,
But once you get involved with a rose
You get trapped in thorns
Waiting to tear you apart
And make you bleed
And cry
Which he did.
Don't trust roses.
Ever.
