Rage and Fury
The rose has thorns,
no, not thorns,
more like freshly sharpened knives.
Everytime i get close, I am shredded,
yet I never learn my lesson.
Sometimes I feel that I may die,
Yet i keep tending to the rose.
The water and soil are pure,
why then does the rose grow in
such a foul form.
When I water it, it's too wet.
If I let it dry, it begins to wither.
I prune it only to have the blades return 10 fold.
Finally, I'm ready to leave the garden for good,
yet I look around and realize the rose has grown.
It wraps around me so that wherever I move,
whatever action I do, simply drives the blades deeper.
So the rose will stay with me, in the garden, or not,
the thorns are every present.
no, not thorns,
more like freshly sharpened knives.
Everytime i get close, I am shredded,
yet I never learn my lesson.
Sometimes I feel that I may die,
Yet i keep tending to the rose.
The water and soil are pure,
why then does the rose grow in
such a foul form.
When I water it, it's too wet.
If I let it dry, it begins to wither.
I prune it only to have the blades return 10 fold.
Finally, I'm ready to leave the garden for good,
yet I look around and realize the rose has grown.
It wraps around me so that wherever I move,
whatever action I do, simply drives the blades deeper.
So the rose will stay with me, in the garden, or not,
the thorns are every present.