They say roses have grace,
Where roses bloom,
The thorns come around too.

Beauty is the rose,
The queen of the garden,
The gift from heaven,
Then where do thorns come in?

“What is beauty without pain?”
wondered the actress,
while polishing her nails again and again.

“The rose is the queen,
Thorns are the useless pawns,”
remarked the gardener,
while sitting on the lawn.

“The rose is the child,
Who saw her petals mercilessly plucked away.

So now she stands all alone,
With thorns as the defense of her own.

She knows the cost of opening up,
So she stays still,
With thorns adorning her stem,
Hidden as they are,
For those who dare to harm her in any way,”

Whispered the girl with the scars,
For the time had taught her,
To build her walls high,
To lean behind the thorns,
Hidden even in plain sight.

• – Addy