Soft like its petals,
Pure as it’s red,
She’s a pretty, little rose,
Or so have they said…
But the pretty rose denies,
It denies,
She denies her fake worth,
‘Cause roses, they have thorns,
And like pretty roses, she has flaws…
She wouldn’t let you reach her,
She wouldn’t let you in,
She wouldn’t show what’s true,
She’d try and hide herself within…
‘Cause pretty roses could hurt you,
And she doesn’t wish to mislead,
When you touch the pretty rose,
She doesn’t want you to bleed…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful train of thoughts, well articulated, nicely encapsulated and insightfully penned with conviction. Thanks for sharing.