There was once a wild rose, 
growing in this world of thorns.
Always a thing of beauty,
living amongst the storm.

It was something fresh and new,
a dazzling contrast to the hate.
It grew past the wicked thorns.
Each passerby, it would captivate.

But one day, the thorns cut off the flower’s petals, 
when they got too close.
For they, too, were mesmerized
By the beauty of a rose.

They didn’t know the strength they had,
Could crush the thing they once adored.
All too caught up in the moment,
To think about the power of their sword.


2 thoughts on “The Rose 

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