Eyes, the green of a rose stem,
Hair, soft as the petal of a rose,
Smile, welcoming as the color of a rose,
Voice, sharp like the thorn of a rose,
Mind, is the pure essence of thorns,
Pain, personified as nothing more than vines,
Streaming on and on,
Yet from terror, her magnificence was born,
Left to be described in nothing but words,
This combination of simple, harsh lines.
