It's just a rose
That's what they said
When we were little
Roses were pretty
You didn't know they had thorns
If you mentioned it they would say you were witty
And they would sit there and scorn
How is that helpping with life?
The thorns are strife
The thorns are a knife
But they don't tell us about the thorns
They only tell us about the rose
They don't want you to know you'll have foes...
Nights filled with cognizance
With the absence
Of who you want to hear from
You don't have guidance
You're supposed to have patience
And wait for sleep to come.
This poem is dedicated to the rose in my life. You're a beautiful person.. but you can hurt me and I've hurt you back. Please forgive me.
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