| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Other >> Emotional >> ID #1156771 |
| |||||||||||||
|
My hands are red
Shaking and bleeding From the rose's thorns. How I longed for my tulip Her thorns seen by my naked eyes But the rose had such a captivating beauty That blinded me. Now I can hold my tulip again, Her beauty is much more than skin deep And I can see her imperfections with my naked eyes And my hands shall never bleed again, Because now I can see That the tulip is better.
© Copyright 2006 DrazenX (UN: drazenx at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
DrazenX has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |