Roses Too Have Thorns


If for once you thought there was beauty
It's a lie that has crossed your thought's duty
Gold too holds dust
And iron too does rust
The sky is spotted with dirty clouds
And white papper hold woods
Men too have faults
Though this is not to authorise
That which is amiss
For there is a light acrid in sweetness

For such, hold that which you have
For in war, my love and hate serve

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