Every rose has its thorns
Each and everyone different then before
And as the rose grows more
More thorns are born
A girl has her thorns
Some on her legs and forearm
Some are filled with shame and remorse
And they just get worse
No one knows she's torn
Between the bully's storm
And her misunderstood conform
When she feels the blood lukewarm
While it goes down her forearm
No one knew the details misinformed
Would cause her this much harm
YOU ARE READING
The Wonders Of Words
PoetryThese are poems that I've wrote randomly. You might interpret them differently than I do and I'm okay with that. Its just the wonders of words.
