Roses are red,
But only when soaked by the blood of a victim of some
desire.
Of the desire to be in the spotlight.
Roses are red,
But only when painted by the blood spilled for freedom
of inconspicuous needs
Of the need to spread the wings of freedom and fly away.
Roses are red,
When beating and being beaten is a passion.
Of the feeling that the passion received is deserved.
When the blood spilled by all the colors is for the assurance
Of attention.
For whatever it takes,
Roses are red.
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Just how i feel
This is a little on how i feel
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