It was the rose you discribed to me.
For its purity, i laughed
For its simpleness, i giggled
For its passion, i opened my arms and hug tightly
O, my lovely rose, you are shimmering under the sun

But later you clear your voice and tell me, you are not that into me
Thorn came out, stinging deeply into my heart.
And i finally realise,
without a thorn, it is never called "Rose"