Raindrops on Roses

Roses are red and beautiful,
Sometimes their meanings could be delusional.
But one thing I know,
Tears don’t help them grow.
One minute we’re at each other’s throat,
The next you’re reading the poems I wrote.
Maybe we are like a rose,
Or we are feeling the effect of love overdose.
I mean, maybe our bad days are the thorns.
The more beautiful the rose, the tougher the storms.
These days I’ve been getting pricked a lot
The main hurts more and more like a gun shot.
I’ve got no more tears to water our flower,
The scars are getting to much for my powder.
I’m thinking why should something so beautiful take so much.
These thorns pierce my veins when my rose I try to clutch.
You may feed on my tears but not my blood,
so I’m nipping this rose in the bud.
I’ll spread the petals from the house to your grave.
Then I’ll turn my back and leave with Dave.
He gives me sunflowers and Lilies
He’s sweet and he listens to my stories and gives me no worries.
Maybe one day you’ll turn to a rose, and maybe not
But that’s a decision for you to make before you rot.

Yeni