She was a pretty rose,
Her thorns, sharp meant to protect her
He saw her blushing petals and craved her sweet frailty
He tore her from her bed and cut off her thorns.
Now she doesn't have anything to protect herself
She's left there, wilting and exposed
Replanted like nothing happened,
Until someone else saw her
He noticed her blushing petals and her weakness
Again, she was ripped from her bed
He tore off her petals, left her for dead
but death isn't the end...
It was her new beginging
She was reborn and grew stronger this time
Her thorns grew longer and sharper so the next time someone tried to pluck her up they were stabbed by her thorns
She continues to grow stronger to this day
No one will ever hurt her again...