She was a rose, 

With throns as sharp as knives, 

Although others were scared to touch her, 

I was not, 

in fact, that was all I had wanted to do. 

She is as delicate as a flower but, she was mindbending like 

a puzzle that is difficult to solve,

She was scared of the thought of being left alone, 

I was having the same fear yet, I look at her and see 

how wonderful a person can be. 

She is delicate and intricate at the same time, 

like my favorite flower. 

A rose has many thorns, and the difference between

me and you? 

I can handle the blood-shed from the thorn 

while you,            

                  cannot.