By: Stackiewicz
From the storm I protrude
I am sharp
Please do be careful
I would hate to draw your life essence from you
to cause you pain
I cannot take it away
I can only give
but hands, do not brake me off of my rose
for I will be sharp with no purpose
and will not be able to protect my rose
yo hands
you are death to me
you are my poison
you and only you can kill my life force
the poison of your hands
will dry me out
brown all of my vibrant green.
but grip me
in return I will draw your life force
as you drain mine.