Love is a thorny rose
Unfolding beauty
Caught in prose
With pinprick words
I suppose
Or else I’ve heard it said
For those that grasp without repose
To tear at hearts
Til mourning grows
With bloodstained hands
So it shows
The pain of those bereft.
Love is a thorny rose
Unfolding beauty
Caught in prose
With pinprick words
I suppose
Or else I’ve heard it said
For those that grasp without repose
To tear at hearts
Til mourning grows
With bloodstained hands
So it shows
The pain of those bereft.