should my roses become black?

roses from me to you are red. while the voilets from you to me are blue. what you mean to me now versus what you ment to me then is ideally new. in some cases i figured it to be more so ironic then true! so why must i feel this way, and who esle knew this was possible? sorry for jumping to confuse a conclusion , but i fear that maybe its to good to be true. what do i deserve from you? what do you wish to be loaned by me? so many questions without the rite plight way to make this seem correct to ask, despite the truth that has been presented. honestly im upset that our colors of choice always start separation and differ in voice subject to change. would you allow me to express the mistakes i have made to become apon the wearness of our freedom? sorrow floats this atmosphere of minds. may it not cause an effection towards your comfortable space, please except the soultion of a fresh breath of air.