The roses grew,
with jagged thorns ready to pierce.
They burrowed through,
skin deep emotions.

The emotions I had tried to hide,
the emotions you wanted to unsee.
If those roses never grew,
then maybe you would of loved me.

The way I loved you.
and the way you saw me,
were two completely different things.
I saw beauty, and you saw the beast

You were a lonely moon,
and I was a distant, dying star.
Made up of roses,
who then defined me.

If thise roses never grew,
then maybe you could love me,
the same way I loved you.
If only you wouldn't of planted the roses....

then maybe I would still be me.