As delicate as they prevail, quite a prick ,
Disguised as vile,
However, could not hurt a fly.
You confinue to bleed, you continue to bleed out to the world,
However, not one soul, not even a soul could mend you.
Could it be oblivion?
A pure dislike?
They all prevail just in time, they all disappear once attached,
Unbearable, fragile.
Their departure is what you fail to bare.
A rose with thorns,
What species cannot bare,
Yet your yearn to be adored leaves you begging, crying out to them, crying out to be acknowledged,
To be loved, as you are a rose, a beautiful rose,
However, the thorns take it all away, not that you would know,
A life that has been loved is what you have been deprived, loveless, yet you continue to prevail, you continue to glow.
A rose, beautiful,
A rose with thorns, more lives you prick.
Quite difficult to fall in love with, even as a friend, a being.
