die Rose
A rose I'm given and it I take
its thorns I find with bites of red
and though I cry and my hands shake
I drain my face of any dread
The pain of knowing and not all the same
I seek to find a holding firm
but when I tighten my hand exclaims
telling me not to shift or squirm
"Why must it hurt?" my eyes gasp
as water falls and lands on a petal
the rose is stunning and tears make it cast
a finer shine than any metal
I call to sky and earth and air
to release me from this floral trap
but all I hear is devil may care
laughing echo a harsh landing slap
After a spell I roll my sleeves
the vines of pink don't bother me
they make a trail of zig zag bees
a warping vine on naked tree
My scars they heal while new ones tattoo
upon my fingers and skin they impose
and while I cannot say "I'm fine." and lie to you
I'm better off with this my Rose