Author Information
Rose Are Red
Roses are Red
them thorns are sharp
from a prick of the finger
till the pain in my heart.
The void in my chest
the unlikely
shortness of breathe
the sigh of relief
but I slammed the door when you left
can I live with these regrets.
Nlow I lay here at nigt time
on my back in my bed
thinking about those sharp thorns
but I still remember
Roses are Red.
