Some Roses are warm red, pink or white
Soft smelling and often the cupid light
Sending arrows down the path of a fulfilled heart.
Though, if planted underneath the gravel
The roots shall to death be in ravel
Then it turns dark; black wilted broken in hell.
“I love you” should be a joy to hold
If given in freedom as a warm Rose
If not, thou have been dished a black wilted Rose.