It is said every rose bears these, Hidden like secrets beneath velvet leaves. They guard the blooms that hearts adore, Whispering the price that beauty bore. Their pointed kiss may leave a scar, A fleeting reminder of how fragile we are. For beauty and sorrow walk entwined, And even fairiest roses draw blood with time.

I can brighten a photograph or brighten a stormy sky. Either way, I’m gone almost immediately.

A mode of transport, favoured at night by a cult following, swept up at the awards, probably

You take me to court, but not to be judged. Even though you use me to slam and smash, and such. In fact, I think violence is lame. Because, you know, love is my game.

If you kick me you are at the end of your road or journey. Time to push up daisies. Sleep the eternal slumber.