A Rose

A thorn for my misery
A petal for my sorrow
A stem for my true love
That I know will be sent by a dove
To help my pain, my misery, my sorrow
Or to kill me off tomorrow
For in my heart a wind blows cold
I'm growing pale, or so I'm told
Is it so bad to be so bold?
Or to shrivel up and grow old?
I question my life everyday
To end all strife? (To keep it at bay?)
I can't really say
And all of these thoughts are because of a rose
One single, delicate, and deadly rose