Do not Give me a Rose
Do not give me a rose
And profess your love
I am not the woman of your dreams
That you so need
Do not give me a rose
I am not five years younger
We change
As much as time does
Do not give me a rose
Enough of all the serenades
This lady is not for love
And only just for love
Do not give me a rose
And shower me with sweet words
Sugarcoated, sprinkled with lies
A gentlemen in disguise
Do not give me a rose
I am not your damsel
Not anymore in distress
As the strength, I muster
Do not give me a rose
For your thirst of admiration
A wine may age well
But tastes quite the same, splendid
Do not give me a rose
If palms bleed with the thorns
A lady's soul will always be bruised
Continously, in a life venture
Do not give me a rose
If beauty is all that you see
When petals wither and dead
Lose its beauty and grace
Do not give me a rose
With wild, shaking knees
A woman is not for the rush of moment
Not the loud to give you silence
Do not give me a rose
With your half-filled desire
Her happiness is not the filler
Of your lifetime loneliness
Do not give me a rose
For, I will never take
Prove yourself worthy
May the man be made
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The Passionate Corpse
PoetryCorpses are gross, dirty and foul-smelling. At times, they're scary to look at. But curiousity enthralls upon something unpleasant. Amidst the ugliness, it satisfies the dark part of our soul-not meant to be human. Something about it is unnatural...
