Covered by roses but it is a bed of thorns,
it may look beautiful, so good to walk on.
Maybe soft to the touch but it hurts so deep,
leaving so many cicatrix that never heal.
So devious is the feeling that you will never know,
that it's not the fragrance but the poison that takes over the whole.
When you reach the end and look back down the path,
you realize that it wasn't reality but ILLUSIONISTIC LOVE of your heart.