The rose stands tall in all its glory.
It seems nothing could phase it or make it do poorly.
Don't be fooled by its wonderful show,
For those with hearts do truly know
Every beauty has a weakness,
And the rose itself is surely depressed.
The thorns in which it grew on its own
Build up walls to make it unknown
That it is easy to love if taken the chance,
But not many are willing to go advance.
The rose wilts, thinking the very worst
That being a rose is definitely a curse.
It needs someone to help it bloom
Not something to bring it certain doom.
The one who will always be by its side
Is standing below, watching in pride.
"You have grown so much," says the one,
"And I'll always be here because you make things fun."
Maybe someday the rose will see its power,
But for now, my dear, know, a rose is my favorite flower.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry
PoetrySimply my own original poems. If you like them, comment! But basically making this so I can keep track of my poems better without saving them to my photos just in case my phone dies or something:)) Content ranges from love, depression, fanboy/girlin...
