on roses why should i waste my ink,
u seem to know much about them already.
on thorns why should i dwell my pen,
you seem to have denounced  them already.
both grow on the same stem,
in both the same blood flows.
both take their life from the same soil,
both feed in the same bowl.
both bear the burnt of nature together,
on both the same moths squat.
still, one you seem to understand much already,
the other you hate too much already.
thinkst thou?