Beware the rose of crimson flame,
Its velvet lips conceal its claim.
Thorns like daggers guard her bloom,
A beauty born to summon doom.
Her scent drifts heavy through the night,
A heady lure, both dark and bright.
Petals fall like blood and sin,
A river where lost hearts have been.
She thrives on longing, lust, and pain,
A wicked jewel in love's domain.
The lonely shiver, the lovers ache,
Each touch a gift, each kiss a stake.
Yet in her shadow, life persists,
New blooms arise from thorned twists.
A cruel enchantress, dark and fair,
The rose waits—beware, beware.
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