Broken roses

The rose withered
the rest are just thorns
so mad, so cruel
and not a second passes and a person forgets
he walks upright and proud
he throws coins into the well
and the currents of thoughts pull him like a dog to the garden
where no one cries and no one begs
where they make love pros and cons
and the sweet smell intoxicates his body
you got something and gave something
something always breaks
whom you did not trust
he will not deceive you
and whom you trusted, he deceived you
so the rose withered
only the thorns remained
sad and so pointless...