I am not a flower.
You won’t find me in pastels
Bees will not pay homage to my petals in this lifetime
I do not reach softly toward the sun, greeting the day.

I am not a flower.
No one wants to plant me in a garden
Or display me in a fancy vase on the table
I will not be sold in bouquets for holidays

I am not a flower: I’m a thorn.
I exist around the edges of beautiful flowers;
Their self-proclaimed eternal protector,
Ready to excavate skin on someone else’s behalf.