Man's Mistake

The icy thorns that desecrate all life
That have been created by man’s mistakes
Always the cause of every person’s strife
Multiplying pain, no longer an ache

For tangled in the thorns lays a young rose
Black in its color, with a dewy gloss
Protecting its secret, never exposed
For all the world would suffer a great loss

The destruction of man has continued
As he deceives himself, building the thorns
Striving to cover his face, now black hued
And hide his secret, his mask not yet torn

And yet, the thorns cover the rose in ice
Unknown to the planter of the device