A dying rose
Yes that's me.

A fragile little thing,
Miscolored and broken.

Just a Tap
can cause oh so much damage.

But somehow
You never get the memo.

Always plucking
My fragile petals.

Always clipping
At my thing little stem.

But it'll be alright
I promise.

But before you pluck my dear last petal.
I warn you,

Don't.

My petal falls,
The pinky red color filling my eyes.

You didn't listen.
I rise.

No matter how small I seem to be.
You can never beat me.

Vines and thorns
Surround me.

They protect a newly found rose.
I, my dear friend,
I am the Black Rose.

You,
You are simply red.

My new petals shine and glow.
I was hiding behind my walls
Yet I realize I needn't be hiding.

I'm myself, black.
And nothing less.
I won't hide to fit in.
I will shine and be myself.