White Rose

White rose,
Do you ever tire of your beauty?

I see all the other flowers,
Bloom in jealousy.

Frankly, it’s not your thorns I avoid,
When you hug me.

It’s those immaculate, white petals,
I’m afraid may impale me.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741