Babies Born Broken

Ruined Red Roses

I was a red rose growing in a garden among white. I was different from the others so I apparently stood out.
I guess that's why people were always drawn to me; because of my beautiful, bright red pigment. But I hated that color-I hated red. Because well...I was red, and because of that, people wanted me, wanted me to themselves, and themselves only.
One day, a kind handsome man came by and somehow managed to pick me with his bare hands. He didn't even care about my thick piercing sharp thorns, he was fearless...or at least I thought. It was amazing at first because I was now free from my familiar roots in the ground that I had called home for so long. I saw new places, and new things, and this adrenaline like thrill rushed through me. Although as time went on I got sick, I needed the beautiful bright rays of sunlight that I normally soaked up in my home and I needed cold refreshing water to fulfill my thirst. As time went on, the man who picked me realized I needed these things and was not prepared for my needs, only my beauty. So, as time went on I started to whelt. My big bright red petals once full of energy slowly started to loose it's perk, with every growing day I became weaker as the man payed less and less attention to me. My red color faded into a gross dark brown and I no longer interested him anymore.
I guess I'm not pretty enough.
So here I am, thrown out in a trash bin, waiting to decompose and become something beautiful once more. If only I were white, if I blended in with others, I would have never died.
I guess the moral of my tragic tale is that everybody craves to have something beautiful but is too lazy to find the beauty within rather than appearance. I hate red, but at the same time time I also hate him. I can't tell which I hate more.