A Dying Rose
You articulate words of a rose.
And everyone sees their allure.
But I’m the one who gets severed by the thorns,
And I’m the one who’s there when they wilt.
No one else sees the vacuity of your words,
That burn my heart.
no one’s around enough to see
how you twist them around, manipulating me.
No one’s there to see what happens when the rose dies.
Your words tumble out like a rose, but the petals breeze on by
while the thorns land on my heart.
I’m fading out, just like the wilted, dying rose.