You took what I treasured, the pain,
The best of you lingered, and the
worst was surprise.
The silence of that night, with a bitter
My innosence; oh how naive I was.
You have plagued me with darkness.
A rose with sharp thorns.
You build my wall, one to never be
The male presence has me paranoid;
a feeling you'll never know.
I would not wish this on anyone.
The fear. The paranoia. The doubts.
A few things I suffer from now.
I'm afraid of my screams and even a
simple knock on my door.
I'm afraid of my dreams; a hell, a
The unpleasant thought of being
alone, the burden of the dark.
The mistake that caused the flower
Not enough water, the terrible hand
of a misguided bug.
Lower than dirt, nothing at all.
Return this flower to the dirt, never to
be picked again.
Stay away for those who don't want
to suffer the stinging of the rose.