Roses die
with
large amounts of water.
It cannot
handle
the Niagara Falls
that you cry.
Roses die
because
they are not
humane.
They lack patience,
forbearance,
tolerance,
stoicism,
Yet Oh!
Where among
the wolves
reside
the sheep?
Where
among the people
reside the
humans?
Roses die
because
they lack voice.
Or perhaps
it is
wisdom,
intellect
that brings forth
fruitful words,
that is scarce
in their cute garden
of pretenses.
Roses are loved
despite
the disgust,
the lack of depth
in personality.
They are loved
among the beasts
because
who needs morality?
As long as one
appeals
to the
human eye,
we are Gods,
Goddesses,
beings
of mystical kinds.
These lips,
these hips
this body
was never mine,
However,
I shall wear it,
and deem
myself
divine.