Roses are said to be one of the most beautiful flowers in the world. In my story they are the cause of all the problems. But no, not any normal rose. A silver rose.
I walk through a garden of thorns. Well, more realistically a house of bad people. People who are not to be named. Constant yelling and fighting. My parents are and never have been the best. My father never really cared about me and left to start a new family with a witch named Missy. My mom isn't as bad as him, but she still caused a lot of problems. My sisters, well, we shall not talk of them. One was successful and one ruined our family. My brother was the golden child. I was just pushed aside.
This story isn't about them, it's about me. I have cried almost everyday because of them so I don't want to talk about them ever again. Thorns prick you but they also cause blood to drip slowly down your arm. They leave scars that never heal. Especially if they are sharp and silver. My rose that helped me move on was silver. I call it my silver rose. My rose's thorns were extra pointy. They released my pain instead of causing more pain.
My rose did not end my life but the vine did. The vine that my rose grew up a tree and made a hoop on the lowest branch. The tree was a willow tree, the one I was glad I took my last breath on. The last sight I saw on the day of June 18th, 2021. I find it convenient that my rose took my life the day it gave life to me.
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Publishers note:
I feel so bad for this person. I hope the family is doing ok.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Rose
RandomA family sent me this. Something their 13 year old child/sibling wrote before they died. Sort of as a suicide note. I am close friends with the person that died. I got full permission from the family to post this.
