In the garden, I meant deceit; In infinity, myself I eat. I don't weigh things despite my scales; My venom flows through ancient tales.

Some keep me in their gardens despite the thorns I wear; My good traits overcome the pain from when your skin I tear. A rose by any other name would still smell just as sweet; But I'm more than just a pretty face...I'm wonderful to eat.

You eat me when you admit defeat and I never forget a face I meet; If you give me gifts I'll leave some back, though murder happens when I'm in a pack.

I am the tyrant of the lizards, but I have no crown to own. I am part of the most famous but have no autographs to sign.

I left no breath, no sound, no cry, Yet linger still where eons lie. Not born of ink, yet shaped in lore, pressed deep beneath the rocky floor. No mind recalls the form I cast, Yet stone remembers what could not last.