A rose as red as the blood

Pricked from your finger

On her thorns

A bud so small it goes unnoticed

So many in awe of the garden of flowers

But on her they never focus

The sweetest scent never to be smelled

Petals so soft and smooth yet never touched

Her innermost beauty she withheld

For fear of being crushed

Afraid they’ll pick her for her loveliness

And toss her aside for her thorns

She believes the only solution for her ugliness

Is to rid herslef of her terrible horns

So she can fit in with the rest

But her thorns are what makes her

Her

Just as much as any other part

So she’ll wait

She’ll stay the same

Longing for the day

Someone will see her

Out of all the other flowers

And say

Look, look at this beautiful rose

How she stands apart from the others

Look, look at this beautiful rose

Even with her thorns, I still love her

And though it will seem

As though everything is the same

The rose will finally bloom

For she herself has changed

She will grow now,

Free of her shame.