Snippets of Color

ROSES

we are all flowers

with dangerous thorns

the air will grow cold

and winter will storm

our petals will wilt

one by one they fall

and we start to wonder

if we were ever beautiful at all

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people will lust after your beauty

but not touch your flaws

they'll call you desirable 

and pluck you with claws

your smile will fall

and the cold starts to seep

they throw you to the ground

and you start to weep

tears stream down your face

you ask why they left you to die

they spit from their mouths harsh potent words

"you are not beautiful," they give you a reply

with each word your beauty starts to fade

every syllable pierces your heart

"i am not beautiful," you start to believe

these words are what begin to tear you apart

and thus the cold settles in

the once warm love you had freezes

"i am not beautiful," you hear yourself say

and you believe yourself to be in pieces

every bit of hope that touches your soul

shatters into a million parts

you wish you never listened

if only you never let them change your heart

but not all hope is gone

warmth creeps in slowly

seeking out those who have frozen

and tries to thaw all who are lonely

fragile hope starts to resurface

and maybe not all is doomed

healing is a slow, but sure process

in time, a new you has bloomed

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as winter comes to an end

frost starts to melt

and evaporates into the air

just like the cold we once felt

the sun starts to shine

warmth seeps back in

our flowers start to grow

and our new lives begin