Wilted Rose

A rose is just a rose is just a rose is just a rose I truly have always felt they fill too many words of prose. I tried to fit the image of some plain old rose you see I'd rather be a daisy, sunflower, daffodil morning glory.. I held my tongue when after I said roses have always bored me of all the flowers that i love he chooses that one to pin me. He casts the blame on a stranger that did nothing to him at all they both know stoop with fevered plea such arrogance will cause a fall. I find it dumb, ridiculous because my friends I'll tell you this I've never meant a single thing to him he plays pretend. He needs revenge so here I am my arms splayed wide for pain he calls me jealous, delusional and even took my friend. She won't talk to me right now and all because of this.... foolish crap and hateful words and tons of words so meaningless. And just in case it's been implied there's a man that cares for me, well no there's not my poet friends I am alone you see. A girl can't be amazing sweet and then a jealous ***** You don't know just what I know or how I even feel. Fancy words wrapped up in verse and petals lead the way a rose is still a boring rose pink, purple, paisley grey. I never want to hear the words rose, bud or petals now it pricks me with the thorns of hurt I can't believed I tried to fit the typical rose part. I'll take it down and be myself although he has his vision go find it now and let this be I'm done with love it's my decision.