Insane Ramblings of a Quiet Girl

The Rose

The succulent rose,


Pedals soft and sweet,


More sought after than,


A diamond, clear and complete.





Bundled and tight,


In the morning day,


Releases itself and opens,


With warming and play,





Nestled in a bed,


Of thickened, tight vine,


Hides something pleasant,


Something rather divine,





Once it is given,


It is wanted no more,


It's pedals wilt and die,


Now it's all tore,





Pedals gently fall,


To the barren ground,


Rotten and colorless,


And will never again be found,





This is what remains,


Of something treasured,


Given or taken, either way,


It leaves something not pleasured.





NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I would like to mention that this is a tale of virginity and the role it plays in a young girl's life. She is pressured to give it away and what is left? Nothing but the shell of a once happy girl.