Festering Rose

All that gain comfort from sight, and claim not ache, Those that smile and wait for that plant to grow, Who, craving pleasure, are merely to take, Staring blankly with self-proclaiming flow; They surely do integrate falsehood’s patience; With a cunning glamour toward their jewels; They claim to be kings within maiden's graces; Others are liars, and the rest sheer fools; The stemming delight seems to be weeping still, Though to many she shimmers in her glee; So that rose festers in wake of man’s cruel will, As the bluest one demands to break free; So by heaven leave the festering rose Find a constant maiden—a gem that glows