I walk into a rose filled garden
A sickening sweet scent fills my nose
Perfectly trimmed hedges
Mixtures of greens with a red flare
The rose bush thorns hidden;
Yet the thorns are still in my view, visible, seen
I reach out into the thorned rose bush.
The thorns prick my fingers, yet I still reach out
As if the bleeding pain is my adrenaline rush
My addiction. My drug
I crave the pain yet I hate it at the same time
But I always come back to this garden
Always trying to reach for the deepest, hidden rose
Just to walk away with scarlet pricked fingers...and no rose in sight
