a deep-dark rose with thorns of blood

could bleed such words on tortured page

it mattered not that pain did flood

black rose suffered from an early age

the wild-heart rose of beauty strange

could seldom see the blooms at all

most pain was felt and in that cage

sore petals bruised and then did fall

that pained teen rose tried every day

to lift cautious eyes and look ahead

but hardships poured down anyway

rose felt sadness that turned to dread

so heart-hurt rose knew wounds through thorns

the pricks were many, the taunts were more

the withering started within those storms

and carved at courage from the core

it's easy to talk and words are quickly spoken;

how i wish your pain would have flown far away

a teenage rose, you were snapped and broken

did i want to say something to convince you to stay?