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A Rose Is Myself

By
A person approaches me,
I don't know who they are,
Nor what they mean to me,
I have thorns and sweet petals,

In a meadow of different people,
Flowing with the same breeze,
We pass by,
Time goes past with ease,

You seem kind at first to me,
But I don't know wether or not,
I should respond to you, just as friendly,

A smile crosses your lips,
You reach to shake hands,
But I give you thorns, instead of fingertips,

I start to feel bad,
Your fingers start to bleed,
However,
You still don't walk away from me,

I question your kindness,
Wether it's real or fake,
How much more of this pain can you take,
Before,
You leave me alone, forever more,

I treat you poorly everytime our paths cross,
Still, You act friendly,
I reject you, not as kindly,

What is a friend,
Long-lasting,
Or time-spending,

You claim it's both,
But I don't know what to think,
Why should I have high hope,
That we'd be as close as friends should be,

Is it worth trying,
Someone could walk away,
Leaving the other one, maybe me, Crying,

Some people are roses,
Who have petals and thorns,

Other people are sunlight,
Inviting and warm,

Roses need sunlight,
Sunlight doesn't need anything,
Except to be simply needed,
By something, or someone, else,

So I let you burn off my thorns,
And all of my desire to use them,
So that we may share eachothers' company,
As long as you'll keep me safe and warm.





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