Field of Roses

Have you ever seen dozens of roses?

A field perhaps

Covered in red beauty

Have you ever tried walking through dozens of roses?

Your fingertips perhaps

Covered in red blood

From afar roses are gorgeous

Elegant

Pretty

They look innocent

But then you make the fatal decision

Fueled by want

Or maybe curiosity

Just the need

To go touch them, pick them

And then they don't look as pretty

So of course

You blame the roses

Because of course they

Walked into your hands

It's their fault

Have you ever seen a man see dozens of women?

At a club perhaps?

Then he decides to talk to them?

In a menacing tone perhaps?

Then the women respond, right?

With rejection perhaps?

So that man

Fueled with rage and embarrassment

Because he can't handle rejection quite yet

(Don't worry he'll get there)

Blames her

Says she was just too pretty

To tempting

He just had to go pick her

She was asking for it

Roses are pretty

Until he got poked

Women are pretty

Until they say no

Because maybe

Just maybe

You shouldn't walk in a field of roses

And you definitely shouldn't pick them