Little Thorned Rose

You know she will grow in even the worst of the year Whether rain, sleet and snow ; her purpose is quite clear Though thorned rose has been squashed before beaten, smashed; thrown tirelessly onto the floor. Still she grows, just as beautiful as you believe For this LITTLE THORNED ROSE; this rose is me. She may be irritant to pesticides at bay, but no you cannot take her smile away. Some days she'll wilt, her leaves dry as the hot sand. But she knows rain will come she doesnt need any man. Her thorns may prick any fool with red eyes For they only see a rose not what lies on the inside. She represents God with all of his deity She stretches to the sky with all of her entity. These thorns are apart of her, she is not perfect or ideal She spurts and flops She extends like mountains, that you know you want to climb She is majestic; vivid in Gods eyes When she dies, she will mean life. She declares power from her roots Beauty from her petals Love from her thorns So let no fool pick as he would please because the BIG THORNED ROSE is me.