A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.

Oh Romeo,

You stop by every where to smell the flowers.
And while you pick them, you hurt them so badly.

Oh Romeo,

And when you're bored of the flowers,
You search for a new scent.
When you finally realise the flower you once threw away
Was the scent you missed the most,
You turn back to find that
The flower has gone with the wind.

Oh Romeo, there you go again.

Shutting your eyes towards another flower
Which you once playfully picked up and threw away.

Oh, heartless Romeo.

Poor Rosaline.