• When is a Rose not a rose?
    Tis simple,
    a rose is no rose,
    when it is a prose.

    Not free to be by any other name.
    Bound and caged, beyond all fame.
    it's frivolous frit of fantasy grounded
    relegated to the earth on which it was founded.

    And we dare not shake our sphere,
    lest we find a world of fear.
    such infinite imagination,
    fraught with such literary divination.

    As to shaken our beliefs in what is truly prose,
    that our speech is something we merely pose.
    While our hand does something quick,
    leaving you wondering if it was truly a trick.

    So leave me be you wrathful rose,
    for my speech be nothing but of prose.
    As I wish to not acknowledge the suspicion that you hath rose,
    the clear and undeniable inspection... of my faithful prose.