They say
Every rose
Has its thorns
Colors fade to black
As the petals fall
One by one
Down
Down
They go.
But even in death,
Thorns remain.
Sharp,
Prickling
Pain
YOU ARE READING
in h.e.r shoes
Poetrythis is a collection of poems i've drafted over the years. i think it is time for them to be set free.
