There i am in a rose field,
swaying in the wind like any other rose
Just like any rose i catch the eye of mothers and daughters
That seems like it would be pretty nice right? Its not
Its lonely, they always come and go picking other roses and not me
They don't pick me because im not red, i'm blue
I'm blue with purple frosted tips
I used to like being different
I would stand out in the huge field of beautiful roses
But it changed
Kids would walk by saying
“the fairies messed up on that one mommy”
The mother would respond with “they did huh dear?”
At first i would let it slide off my pedals like it was a drop of water
But the drops grew
They grew till it was too heavy for me to carry
The drops wouldn't slide off
So i started drooping
I started drooping as if i were a weak tree holding a panda at the top
Then just like any rose, i started wilting
I started to wilt more and more every day
My purple tipped petals turned to brown tips
My soft smooth pedals turned to dry bumpy pedals
  Then before morning i was gone
I have finally wilted away
It was as if i was never there