Rose

The ROSE is beautiful as the madness of the world, with colors from the red to the white, from the passion to the respect, full of thorn like you unexpected, intriguing as no-one, beautiful. I know the risk of the rose it always hurts, when you try to approach to her but the prize is incredible for the hunter, for the dreamer. But obtain her, is to kill her. In many occasions like the Trochilinae they did not hurt her and they have their sweet but what a wolf can do is impossible it can only give his blood to her or kill her there are no many option to him he is not sensitive as the gardener or the bee, He is just in love with her he know the next action separate from her eventually, as always Dreaming a new answer, but knowing the truth.

Dreaming in the stars modeling the clouds with the wing watching a rose forgetting the stars waiting the sunset asking the moon for the God of love and hope, maybe he forget the world full of sadness, hate, death and misery. Maye all the Gods are dead just like my hope.

I wish someone could save me from this empty and cold world?

If tomorrow never comes i will wait in the nightas always with a sarcastic smile hunting the gods if they exist