For Arie(rewritten)

For a friend.

He gave her ten roses,
Nine real and one fake.
And she questioned the last one,
The one he would take.

He explained his reason,
He explained it with pride,
It was fake because he would love her,
Untill the last rose had died.

At first, it was cute,
She loved him so much,
But soon her "love" faded
With each single touch.

They grew farther away,
They grew farther apart.
Until one day she said,
"I want a fresh start."

So the boy cried all alone,
With his one rose in hand.
Until his friend came by
And asked him to understand.

She tried to tell him pretty things,
Though they came bit by bit,
She told him she loved him,
But he said love is bullshit.

So she took his hand,
The hand with the rose,
She took it and smelled it
And the fake didn't show.

And she said "This black rose
Will turn red someday soon,
When what's fake becomes real
And when love finally blooms."