05-01-2013, 05:24 PM
forgot what i was meant to be writing about...think I managed to drag it back in the last line. (Not done any proof reading yet so prob got lots of nits)
This rose has thorns, I’ll never be bold enough
to hold a rose. My tender skin, beneath
these gloves, would split and let those barbs then scuff
and cut and pierce; a fatal wound from teeth,
which laced with germs will race to meet and eat
my knights all white. A trend, then set to start
the slow and painful death, as cells made weak
will break and pustulate through out my heart.
Far better not to look or touch the rose
and keep my skin and life un-pierced. To live
beneath the cancerous sky and walk the rows
among the deadly rose is divisive.
But yet I must, my stars foretold my fate.
An Aries, trapped in white checkmate.
This rose has thorns, I’ll never be bold enough
to hold a rose. My tender skin, beneath
these gloves, would split and let those barbs then scuff
and cut and pierce; a fatal wound from teeth,
which laced with germs will race to meet and eat
my knights all white. A trend, then set to start
the slow and painful death, as cells made weak
will break and pustulate through out my heart.
Far better not to look or touch the rose
and keep my skin and life un-pierced. To live
beneath the cancerous sky and walk the rows
among the deadly rose is divisive.
But yet I must, my stars foretold my fate.
An Aries, trapped in white checkmate.