Wake up!
Smell the roses
Because they are lovely, kind, and warm
You’ll find the smell will lift your soul and
blind you from the thorns
Thorns that cause you pain
Thorns that prick your mind
Thorns that make you wonder
Why did beauty make me blind?
Thoughts then crossed my mind
as I fought to see the good
All I needed was to see
beauty truly understood
The thorns lay hidden
beneath the soft array of pinks
I couldn’t have seen the danger;
good and bad don’t often link
Why did I think I’d find good without it’s opposite quickly following?
Why did I blame beauty for the pain from my innocent fiddling?
Beauty never stabbed me
Also, beauty never left
Beauty stood bleeding red
In the garden meant for rest
I woke up
I saw the roses
I stretched out my hand
I grabbed the stem
I felt the pinch
I woke up
The thorns are not beauty
The thorns are not kind
So don’t ever blame
Beauty or yourself
For being
Blind
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