I am but a rose thrown at a scorned lover,
Left heartbroken in the middle of the street,
It's petals falling and stem breaking
And it's beautiful colour fading.

My petals can never be restored,
Most have been lost,
Carried by the whispers of the wind,
Like peace,
I know that I will never be able to experience such a feeling again

I have been;
Stepped on,
Spit on,
Sweeped to the side,
And picked up

But I know that;
Those who step on me, get the sharp pain of my thornes
Those who spit on me, have an internal envy of my beauty,
Those who sweep me, the wind carries me back to the same place,
And those who try to reconstruct me, fulfil themselves with an impossible task, but I know those are my true friends, my greatest treasure, and my brightest hope.