Love's thorns

Love is a guest, or a ghost i suppose.
either way, its the thorn on the rose.
at first its a gift, one you hope wont leave
but then you realize, that boy is just a tease.

you try to stop thinking about him day and night,
but hes just so perfect, hes just so right.
then the conclusion is, love it stupid. it should die
and that's it, you wont change your mind.

i know this poem might suck, and you probably don't want more
but I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing this for that boy.
i hope you read this and realize the pain,
even though you'll never see my tears run like rain.

So read it and weep, "babe"
and i bet you'll see,
that now you don' mean anything to
me.