The crimson rose

A sign of beauty,

A symbol of grace.

Its pride runs strong

At a very fast pace.

It's wild like a wolf,

It's gentle like the breeze,

And it has a burning honor.

It's not eager to please.

But carelessness pays.

It is armed with thorns.

It'll laugh while you're bleeding

As your skin gets torn.

It is loved worldwide,

But don't be fooled by its pose.

It holds ancient, dark secrets.

Beware of the Crimson Rose.