Holding her rose
She stands, waiting to plead her case
But I can see the pain
As it rushes over her face

Its thorns pierce her hand,
Yet she holds it in place
Blood dripping from the stem
Like the tears from her face

Hidden from view
Her rose is veiled
But now the time comes
And her face is paled

Its thorns pierce her hand,
Yet she holds it in place
Blood dripping from the stem
Like the tears from her face

Struggling to tell
Yet struggling more to conceal
Another day must pass
Until she unveils how she feels

Its thorns pierce her hand,
Yet she holds it in place
Blood dripping from the stem
Like the tears from her face

Her blood falls to the ground
In its brilliant, scarlet hue
But her rose remains concealed
And it seems there’s nothing left to do

Holding her rose
It’s all she has left
Grasping it tightly
Her life remains bereft