Wilted Rose
A rose is just a rose is just a rose is just a rose
I truly have always felt they fill too many words of prose.
I tried to fit the image of some plain old rose you see
I'd rather be a daisy, sunflower, daffodil morning glory..
I held my tongue when after I said roses have always bored me
of all the flowers that i love he chooses that one to pin me.
He casts the blame on a stranger that did nothing to him at all
they both know stoop with fevered plea
such arrogance will cause a fall.
I find it dumb, ridiculous because my friends I'll tell you this
I've never meant a single thing to him he plays pretend.
He needs revenge so here I am my arms splayed wide for pain
he calls me jealous, delusional and even took my friend.
She won't talk to me right now and all because of this....
foolish crap and hateful words and tons of words so meaningless.
And just in case it's been implied there's a man that cares for me,
well no there's not my poet friends I am alone you see.
A girl can't be amazing sweet
and then a jealous *****
You don't know just what I know
or how I even feel.
Fancy words wrapped up in verse
and petals lead the way
a rose is still a boring rose
pink, purple, paisley grey.
I never want to hear the words rose, bud or petals now
it pricks me with the thorns of hurt
I can't believed I tried to fit the typical rose part.
I'll take it down and be myself
although he has his vision
go find it now and let this be
I'm done with love
it's my decision.
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