The Violet Rose
I once had a rose called mine,
Thorns sharper than Freddie cougars blades taking another life.
I often wonder where the blades went, maybe another bystander took them away just to sit and praise at them.
Ohhh the peddles, they could wrap around your eyes just so you can say beauty with a passion, but the average girl picks the rose one by one just to ruin a life to find out if loves in there favor and odds.
He loves me, he loves me not.
See this is not the flower to be partaken with on faith and games.
Maybe you could give it dirt, sunshine, and a dash of ...