A girl, a blossoming flower, publicly defined by her beauty
The hue of her petals, the curve of her jagged leaves.
She is so sought after, but she never ceases to remain alone.
The times when people stop long enough to smell the roses,
To notice the beautiful Briar Rose,
The first thing they do is try to pluck her from her roots,
Take her away from her home, her place of comfort in that field where she grew,
So she can become yet another admirable addition to their collection
Useless knick-knacks and objects they use to soothe their greedy hearts
In hopes of discovering some scrap of happiness
That was unknown to them before.
Yet these selfish tyrants never succeed
In tearing the beautiful Briar Rose away from her home,
For they did not notice, due to the captivating spell she had cast upon them,
That the beautiful Briar Rose
Was more than just a blooming bud.
She lives up to her name, after all, being but another rose
To bear the sharp spines of briars
As a last resort; a form of self-defense and self-preservation
To keep away these people with selfish intentions.
As soon as they are pricked
By the beautiful Briar Rose,
Gone are the thoughts of her crimson petals
And her stem that holds her upright
And her leaves, the color of envy,
Replaced by their intuition saying to them that, no, this rose is not in fact beautiful.
The longing these people once felt
Dissipates into air
As soon as they get a taste
Of the dark side
Of the beautiful Briar Rose.
And so they leave
Without a second thought.
And the most unfortunate thing is that this does not surprise
The beautiful Briar Rose
For she is used
To being used
And being left for dead.
So, she stays there, enjoying the time she has while she can.
She lets the buzz of the bees,
The chatter of the birds,
And the hum of the forest
Drown out the sounds and thoughts of those who admire her
Because she knows that they will eventually leave her as well,
Because they do not know
That her heart-stirring beauty,
Her breathtaking fragrance,
And the bite of her thorns,
Will soon cease to exist.
Had they looked closer, they could have seen
That the beautiful Briar Rose
Was dying.
Maybe if they had known, she thinks, they would have stayed.
Maybe then they would have known
That they should be appreciating
A girl like Briar Rose
For more than just her beauty,
And they should have looked past
The sharp edges of her thorns
And into who she is.
Because you never know, if you judge things too soon,
Whether one is thriving as much as they appear to be by the flourishing of their petals,
Or if they are dying.
A girl like the beautiful Briar Rose
Lives a short life.
And we must learn to treasure her
While we still have her,
And not for her beauty, but for her heart.
For her identity.
Or else
We may lose
All of the girls
Like the beautiful Briar Rose.