This poem is in a vampires view of the innocence the world claims to have. He places the rose in place of the world. I DON'T WANT ANYONE TO COPY OR REWRITE/REDO MY POEM. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE ANYONE TO E-MAIL ME IF THEY FEEL LIKE IT.
The crimson red color is truely blood,
It's thorns prick and posion you to your death,
It's petal's gentle and soft
but in truth is rough.
nothing is innocent
Nothing is pure,
Nothin' is able to be trusted
for all things hold lies.
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