White Rose

When I first met you

You were a rose

A white one in fact

So pure, perfect, and true 

The longer I held you in my hands

The more I noticed the thorns

Which have pricked my fingers

The blood was red and dark

Before I knew it 

It has gotten on the rose

The rose wasn't pure anymore

It wasn't perfect

It was terrifying

It was now dangerous

This rose has hurt me

And if only I wasn't 

Blinded by its beauty

Maybe then I would've noticed

The thorns that scar my hands

If only I had noticed

Just wrote this poem rn but had the idea about it for a while. What do you guys think? Is it good? Any advice?