White Roses Painted Red..
Hoping for passion, gaining pain instead.
Weaving through the thorns..
Careful as needle with thread.
Trying to push through where my heart has led.
Hell bent on forever..
But barely making it through today.
Fighting for more, with no confidence for tomorrow..
Taking time that I don't have to borrow.
Love is blind, as is the hope it flies upon..
It doesn't die so easy, though it is easily torn.
Creating a truss for thus to grow...
Baring such scars on my tattered heart..
Happily miserable is my secret art.
Hoping for passion, that is often pain instead..
White Roses Painted Red.