Best Poem of E.D. French

The Rose
Every rose has it's thorns,
But you have so many that
Those who try to pick you up
Get hurt. And those who see
Your beauty don't try for fear
Of getting pricked.

I can see that beneath
That prickly exterior is
A scent that smells like

I did my best, but you
Can . . .
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Taste it she said-
So I did, and I let it
Slip away, like she did.

So now I sit and wait
While I wait I drink,
While I drink, I think
And while I think, I drink.

I wait and wait for the day
When the pain will go away
Or when I don't have to
Drink to make me stop
Read the full of Disease?