In every field of roses,
There is one that is golden.
It shimmers and glimmers in the light,
From the Sun in the morn, and the Moon at night.
Its petals are glamorous.
Sometimes they reside inside a forest.

There’s always a bee,
For every golden rose.
The hive sees nothing,
Only the chosen bee knows.
A game played since time began,
The game of love, where few seem to win in the end.

He had found his golden rose,
They had grown rather close.
Her golden hair sparkled in the light,
Whether throughout the day or at night.
She was…glamorous,
And they bought a house near a forest.
Life seemed to be going well,
He had her and never thought of anyone else.
But sometimes bees cheat at fate’s game,
And the golden rose was a victim of this plague.

The bee came home one night,
Light emanated from the bedroom.
The bee opened the door,
And he lost everything that he could lose.
His golden rose was with another,
They had been together all night.
Evidence all o’er the floor and the king-sized bed.
They were in the bathroom,
Showering with the new, pristine shower head.

The bee had been played for a fool,
False gold covered the rose he was devoted to.
All at once, her shimmer faded away,
Her petals wilted as they decayed.
The rival bee held onto the rose,
As he kissed her on the nose,
The fool had been planning to propose,
To his supposed…golden rose.

For every bee there is a golden rose,
But there are many fakes, covered in fool’s gold.
They crush the bee, make them lose their wings,
And leave nothing but heartache that stings.

Built-up frustrations and transgressions have come to a head,
You’ve decided that enough is enough.
You carry your newly filled gasoline cans,
Can’t believe that this is how it ends.
You pour the gasoline,
All over the wooden, fractured planks.
And as you douse the bridge with kerosene,
Some of the boards groan and even break.
You light a match and stare at the flame,
Contemplating everything.
How your friends stabbed you in the back and ran away,
How they treated you like dirt, but you took it anyway.
How you were desperate, and it caused you pain.
How you never felt like you belonged with them either way.
So you flick the match,
And listen to the satisfying crackle of the flames.
But don’t feel bad,
Sometimes bridges burn, and that’s okay!

I know a girl named Daisy,
She wears a smile on the daily.
Even when the world is feeling hazy,
She sprouts up like a daisy.
I don’t know how she smiles,
And hides all her pain.
I don’t know how she talks,
Like everything’s okay.
I wish I knew her secret,
About feeling bliss,
Despite all the melancholy,
And the darkness.
But nobody knows,
What it’s like at home.
When she’s all alone,
Does she cry into her pillow?
She wakes up the next day,
Puts a smile on her face,
How does she deal with the pain?
She brings joy to every room,
Things feel less like gloom and doom.
Even when morale feels low,
She makes me feel less alone.
If she can smile despite,
The things that occurred in her life,
Then surely I,
Could be a daisy too.