Pickin' Petals

"He loves me, he loves me not..."
Pickin' petals.
Round and round.
Undressing the flower.
Depending on chance and number.
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
The war within wages on.
To give or not to give.
To love or not to love.
Round and round.
The battle goes.
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
But once the words professed,
Once the three words said,
Now comes the bend in the road.
The hard task at hand.
He loves you, does he?
Well then, put down the flower.
But is his love true?
Is it desire, friendship, lust, or trust?
Is it hope, greed, youth, or truth?
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
And so the petal picking changes its meaning.
The petals multiply.
No more daisies, let's find the roses.
But roses have thorns, pretty one.
Careful how you hold them.
Careful how you pick them.
Watch your movements girl.
Yes it is fun.
It is wonderful to be chosen.
But now it is your turn to choose.
No more picking petals young woman.
Is he worth the blood of a thousand roses?
Is he worth your love?
This is something you must answer on your own.
"He loves me, he loves me not..."
Ask not anymore if he loves you.
Put down the flower.
Asses your heart.
Ask if you love him.
For your choice will change you life forever.