When I Think of a Rose

A friend asked me to think of a rose;

When I think of a rose,
I think of its thorns.
I am reminded of beauty,
which can turn hideous and grotesque.

When I think of the thorns,
thorns are sharp.
Sharp objects hurt you,
make you bleed.

The blood reminds me of pain,
pain reminds me of death,
death makes me think of darkness.
Despair.
Emptiness.
Loneliness.

A rose reminds me of love,
reminds me of passion,
romance.
The thorns are equivalent to the past,
the past can hurt you,
hurt reminds me of pain.
Pain reminds me of sadness,
which then turns into tears.

Tears can also make one think of happiness,
happiness reminds me of joy,
compassion,
of love.