Every rose has its thorns,

and every woman knows that beauty is pain...

Naturally occurring in nature with its emotional attachments in feeling.

What goes around comes around, so everything is the same.

This is the truth that we are born to deny,

cloaked in a cleverly right-minded disguise;

so truthfully, all we've come to know is a lie.

Unknowingly, we've built homes in a mirrored dimension

upside down, yet parallel to the truth.

True wisdom subdued.

We are fed a carbon copy to slip into our ears

and told to run with during the day,

with no preparation for when the night falls.

Glorified death --

We are awestruck, captivated by dusk,

stuck to zealously admire impending demise.

Only the strong survive;

and in this reflection world those with a mind like a meadow of flowers

flourishing with butterflies and gentle breeze will find ease as

men, who lust for blood flooded with insecurity, will meet instability as their peace will swiftly flee from them

like butterflies returning to home.