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Sep 13
The ravishing rose,
Is my journey’s end.
With its rosy flushed petals,
I long for peace,
From all the blessings of the enchanting shrub.
Running for miles,
Until I catch sight of it,
The ravishing rose.
At last I’ve found my inner bliss,
A rest for my soul to breathe.
As my expedition concludes,
And my destination lies in front of me,
I face the rose,
I died so long to touch.
But every time I come close,
And lay a hand on my purpose,
I always get hurt by the thorns.
Blemishes cover me,
They write over me like broken-hearted words from woeful poetry.
They poke at my soul,
Nudging me away,
Away from that rose,
I ventured so long to touch.
The ravishing rose,
It bursts into laughter upon seeing me,
And cleverly informs me,
That I can’t attain the beauty my soul seeks,
Without a test to wound me along the way.
The rose snickers as it catches a glimpse of my palms smeared with blood,
Scarred by its thorns.
You cannot grasp a beautiful rose,
Without getting hurt,
By its thorns.
Farzeen Rashid
Written by
Farzeen Rashid  16/F/Surrey BC Canada
(16/F/Surrey BC Canada)   
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