Beware the rose, so strong and sweet...
For tis I who knows of such defeat...
let not her promise and softness of skin ...
start thou thoughts of love again ...
for tis I who knows her ways of love...
and I who pray to gods above ...
she'll laugh with madness as you pay her price...
her love is poison, an embrace of ice ...
she'll sigh in pleasure as you reel in pain...
this heartless femme, with Juliette for her name...
© Poetic Wolf