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I am a Connoisseur of Roses, An object of pure beauty, with petals so soft, and a scent so pleasant, yet every Rose no matter how beautiful has its thorns, showing that you should never judge anything by just how it looks.... Every Rose has its thorns... Every Rose has its Thorns... But then why make it so beautiful? Is it a taunt? to want to grab this beauty only to be stabbed by its Thorns and made to bleed when all you wanted was to enjoy it closer? That scent, its colors, oh how i lust for the beauty of a crimson rose so... but thus as i go to enjoy it closer i get lost in its beauty and fall victim to its more sinister nature, thus gaining pain instead of peace. Oh why does it taunt me so... i want it, i lust for it, i need it, so i learned to tame the rose, i learned to touch the thorns without the pain, and pluck it gently, lovingly, only to have it die, wilt, perish, turning brown its petals fall, showing such a style of life and death... I am a Connoisseur of Roses... I am Death.


Inner Mind Haiku:
I am known as Death
As the rose they lust for me
Such foolish actions...