Beware of the flower
Such a pretty flower to look at from a distance.
But up close big sharp thorns.
The flower smelt bad.
Acrid stench somewhere between a dirty ashtray, Northies Cronula Hotel public bar, and the public toilet, a beat for sordidity.
Men and women lured by the bright red petals and green foliage which hid the thorns that caught on their clothes as they struggled to escape the stench.
Carnivorous, it had devoured many unsuspecting men who gave up and women who were fooled by the facade of red and green.
But some escaped.
Carefully peeled off the tendrils of thorns and walked away.
Never again to be fooled by the facade of beauty that hid the pain of a million sharp thorns and the suffocation by the stench worse than rotten eggs.
The escaped healed.
Warned the world.
The flower was unwatered.
It wilted.
Lost its attraction.
And the thorns became more prominent.
The petals fell to the ground.
People just walk past the flower these days and hold their breath so as not to breath in the vile stench.
The flower