Ripped rose: a sonnet poem

Its frayed at the rim
Bleeding down the stem
flowing down the streams
nothing as it seems

killing in the prime
selling them is crime
pinning them together
surely nothing clever

Many beautiful hues
they should be left right
of all i see these cues
Just go shed this light

A corpse, a sign of affection
What is this horrid affliction

~End~

End