A rose sits in darkness
Nobody sees its light.
There was once a brilliant defender
But he soon gave up the fight.
The light that came in from the door
Was all it ever saw.
The rose knew the world was out there
But it has this subtle flaw.
A witness once told a story,
A fantastic journey of hate.
Where it didn’t take the rose very long
To realize its fate.
Growing steadily on vines of love
Then cut down to size for vain.
They realized they needed more than one
Because one rose was just too plain.
But when many took up the room
They soon began to fall.
Death, in all its aftermath
IS the ultimate wall.
Once cut from the bush
The rose begins to die.
You may take the truth from dignity
But you cannot make it a lie.
Reblogged this on Personal poetry and philosophy.
Thanks for sharing this. 😁