i journied through a forrest covered in haze.
through the thick grey fog there was a bright glow of red.
i stumbled trying to make my way towards it,
tripping on the roots from apple trees.
i came closer to this red. a rose was revealed.
this rose was mesmerising. my hand reached for it without thought.
immediately, i threw my now red fingers back.
under this rose were thorns sharp as daggers.
in my state of confusion, i could’ve sworn i heard Someone say,
“this is not yours to take”