Every rose has its thorn
A symbol of beauty
A symbol of most fear
A grail that is lost when acquired
Not yielding to all fingers
Deliberate and Delicate
Two choices of which neither can be omitted
For a thorn can deceive

A simple prick, no more
You go on with your life
A slash, deep and scarring
Leaves you maimed
Unable to enjoy what you once did
Tears cannot come
Trying is futile
The sweet smell is gone

Reminiscent of early petals
You can only find thorns
You try to avoid them
They always get you
The petals bring the sweet smell
But like the smoke from the fire
Always slips between your fingers
Leaving only a dull feeling

Lucky are the ones
Who receive a thornless rose
You may believe
Not so I would counter
Pain is a necessity
A reminder of life
Love not the rose
But the thorns it bares