i feel a stirring, one I should ignore.
This road is quite familiar, often trod;
it's lined with floral scents I so adore,
and she's a beauty; I'll admit I'm awed.
Of course, I tell myself, "Remember when
frail petals fell and some impaled and frayed.
you touched them, getting cut and bleeding then
you found yourself alone with heart betrayed."
But I'm enticed by roses and must chance
their loveliness, despite the pain may be.
I'll probably be cut with pride's advance,
and made a fool of love withheld by she.
Though I have wit and know cool sense forewarns,
it's worth it, sometimes roses, sometimes thorns.
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