I know of a rose with petals so extravagantly laid that one glance at the rose bush and all the rest are put to shame.
I know of a rose that does not wither with the sight of bad weather coming along.
Unlike all the others, when they droop with discouragement, this one stands tall and strong.
I know of a rose who uses its needle-like thorns to penetrate those who come near for its delicacy and past injuries have all morphed into fear.
I know of a rose lacking water to help it grow for its tears, though an abundant supply, are not meant to sow.
I know of a rose that every person ignores despite its qualities.
I know of a rose, one single rose.
That rose is me.