The Rose
So beautiful- yet
Far from perfect

Luscious
Crimson Red
Top-
Yet
Crimson Red
Blood-
Drips
From the thorns

The Rose
Tries to free itself
From the hands of the man
Who grasped her Sharp, Spiny, Stem

The Rose
Is stuck
With-
That man

That "Man"
Who
Wakes up at noon-
Who
Doesn’t do his dishes
Who
Has no plan but labor
He- is
Ambitionless

All that "Man"
Will do-
Is hold the rose-
In a vase

And later on
--You--
Will regret
Wasting your youth
away