Sep 2018
The rose
May have petals
Soft as silk
Might be luxurious
And pure like milk.
Full of beauty
Full of love
Might look weak
But it is tough.
You forget
About its thorns
And you forget
What they’ve sworn:
“Evil and lust,
Hate and less trust.
Love is no good
When life is broken,
Like it should.”
The rose’s beauty
Isn’t real.
The rose’s hate it.
May have petals
Soft as silk
Might be luxurious
And pure like milk.
Full of beauty
Full of love
Might look weak
But it is tough.
You forget
About its thorns
And you forget
What they’ve sworn:
“Evil and lust,
Hate and less trust.
Love is no good
When life is broken,
Like it should.”
The rose’s beauty
Isn’t real.
The rose’s hate it.
A poem I think I wrote in May of 2014, but I found it and recently revised it. It’s about my heart, as it broke the day I went into foster care. I used the rose because it as the last flower I saw when I left, and the first flower I saw when I arrived at my new home.
