Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Look at me again,
It will be the end of you.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Look at me again,
It will be the end of you.
Listen up, buttercup. This "roses are red" thing is usually sweet, right? Wrong! This ain't your grandma's poem. This poem is like a creepy warning. You stare at the author again, and it's lights out for you. Get it? I knew you could.