• The object, a sweet scent of roses.

    The color so dark, so soft. What might this object be? One single deep red rose. It's predals so velvetly soft, its scent of such sweet flowers.

    The stem's thorns stained with blood, for the fear of wilting. With the tips of the pedals already darkend by my touch.

    as I roll the stem around in my fingers, the sharp thorns peirce my flesh. I watch as blood drips down my fingers.

    The natural beauty of roses and blood...it's amazing...to wath the blood just drip down from the thorns..

    So beautiful, yet so painful...