I loved a rose whose thorns were sharp,
I held her close and they pierced my heart.
Nursed from her lips,
Embraced at the hips.
Her fragrance intoxicates,
Her promises prevaricate.
She faded away and with my hope,
Without love I struggled to cope.
No wine ready before it's time,
I wish her happiness over mine.
To love a rose whose thorns are sharp,
Beware my son they'll pierce your heart.
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