A rose by any other name

would still have it's thorns

sweet lying smells

temptaions of fools

you're lost by the silk

appearances are deceiving

you never really know

the truth behind the look

no has known my mind - but I

some tried but gave up on it

or didn't wish to continue on the twisting journey they found

too many paths with facades

of the splintered me

everlasting laberynth

will I ever find my centre

and will I be happy

when I meet the real me

my controller, my fate

before these petals wilt away

the thorns will dig and bleed

some more, masking my way

to the centre of the rose

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed