Bad poetry I wrote as a teenager, Volume XVII

Another rose poem. Another poem about my first boyfriend, Satan. It requires no back story, although I will note that back in the early days of Bad Poetry Fridays, I felt it was too embarrassing to post. I'm over it.

I used to see a rose and see the beauty
But now I only see the thorns beneath
In time the beauty falls in blood-red tears
And leaves behind a broken stem of dreams

The rose displays a mask of scarlet entities
Its regal beauty lures all, weak or wise
Who live to gaze upon this perfect wonder
Yet once the heart is trapped, the beauty dies

The petals start to blacken, then they fall
To mingle with the tears, all cried in vain
Now eyes that look upon this barren stem
Will see the truth revealed, that love is pain

Here's Volume XVI.