Happiness blooms when its most hard to(:

The Poison Tree by William Blake( a little like white rose, black blood)

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe; I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I water'd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears; And I sunned it with my smiles And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole When the night had veil'd the pole: In the morning glad I see My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree

its so nice tyvm jiamin for introducing this poem hahaha. interesting.