The rose
Though it looked lovely to the eye
it was piercing to the touch
Blood streaming down my finger

How deceptive is the rose
Delicate and intricate
but hidden with thorns
that pierce the flesh

Is that not life?
Such beauty
Such an ideal
But filled with ***** traps,
pains and trials

I guess we cannot have life
just in a perfect, little package
No rain
No rainbows

Joy isn't guaranteed
Pain is inevitable
Not just a beautiful creation
The rose comes with a price

Embrace it
and you may suffer
The price might be painful sting
as you gather up the jewel that is the rose

Isn't it odd
that the most celebrated of flowers
is one that bears its armor
like tiny swords?

Does it not reflect both
the beauty
and the pain
of life?