Rose

 

A rose cries; entangled within lush barbed wire.

A strike of red displays through its silver captor.

The passer by finds misery upon sight of the mess.

With desire to break the wire once and for all.

Even though the roseís thorns will strike once rescued,

The passer by knows the scent is worth more than the pain.

He eyes the huge tangled mess with heartfelt concern.

Searching a space to do least harm to himself and the rose.

He finds one, with fresh bloodstains of one less lucky before.

Another soul that was pulled in by the lust of the rose.

Mirror shrapnel lies perpendicular to the opening.

Maybe a sign, but the reflections display it all.

I see myself. Yes. Even the sharp edges talk to me.

I ignore it. I donít navigate through the opening either.

I grab the rose. The cage shrieks as it senses the roseís freedom.

My pain sits camouflaged between the petals. Now itís new home.

 

Dedicated to all those going through trials and tribulations in their lives.