The rose shows love
As it's colour is red
It's petals are smooth and soft
As the sheets on a bed

It's thorns bite
With the hope of blood
With a red wave over its tip,
Coursing as a flood

Beauty does hurt
As its structure portrays
It defends itself stylishly
Therefore by itself it stays

It hurts with the thought of beauty
Hopes with the thought of love
Lives on the thought of fame
Dreams about being all above