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Petals Of Pain
For the rose who once stood tall, bright colourful with petals in her prime.
The attachment of the thorn that settled itself upon her, its true ugliness to be revealed through time.
Lately shes been reminded of why you don’t come near her anymore, your feeling of disgust.
Yet shes expected to wear a mask for you, whilst inside she’s filled with nothing but mistrust.
The clenched arms, lying closed up, back turned to her at night.
She’s been reminded to keep it all to herself, express nothing, for fear you might bite.
With every conflict between you, the one at fault, the bleeding soul, scarring, to blame her will always be.
It’s much easier for you if she remains silent about her feeling’s, to just let things be.
For her the tears continue to flow endlessly, the aching in her heart.
That constant reminder, you both would be better off apart.
With every thorn you’ve pierced into her heart, she has slowly lost her brightness, her colourful sense of self.
She’s now trapped in your water bowl ambiguous to blend in with the rest, for fear of being left on the shelf.
Her now dull exterior proves you prefer anyone or anything other than her at the other side of your phone.
You’ll never know how often you’ve made her feel ignored, confused and all alone.
She yearns inside to be like the rest, to be free, to have her colour back once again.
Instead, this withered rose has yet to be watered and is losing one by one, each of her petals of pain.

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