FauxA Poem by LimitalityThe title has nothing to do with this. I just decided to name it that, I hope you understand. This poem has a literal meaning and a figurative meaning. Becareful.I was strolling down a narrow path, when my eyes met a beautiful rose. Blood, dripping in it. What a looker. To touch one petal was like heaven, So soft, yet strong, and so amazing. It catches your eye, like a shiny object, shimmering in the golden rays of the sun; I fell in love. I reached out, so slow it could have been a year. My eyes big with pride and exciment. I found the perfect rose. It got everything, even if it was tattered. Not this on, though- No, this one is too perfect. -But I want it. the blood dried rose, makes me smile. One that does not shatter my heart: It's a pure smile, one that does not have to be forced. Gently, I reach for the steam, then grip- "OW!" I screetch, I recoil my hand, and bring my finger close to my eye. The pain is a terrible stinging, as the blood dripped on and on, non-stop. I stare in horror, and look back at that rose. Of course; This rose has thorns. Such a beautiful thing, this crimson, bloody rose. Full of sorrow, and hate, and I- Well, I, could not help it. But I wanted that rose, it should have been mine. Unfortuantly, it couldn't be. My mind always lingers on that rose, and I do not think, that it will ever stop. I will never forget, that one important thing; That rose, had thorns.
© 2009 LimitalityAuthor's Note
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