She was a pretty rose,
Her thorns, sharp meant to protect her

He saw her blushing petals and craved her sweet frailty 

He tore her from her bed and cut off her thorns.

Now she doesn't have anything to protect herself

She's left there, wilting and exposed 

Replanted like nothing happened,
Until someone else saw her

He noticed her blushing petals and her weakness

Again, she was ripped from her bed
He tore off her petals, left her for dead

but death isn't the end...

It was her new beginging
She was reborn and grew stronger this time

Her thorns grew longer and sharper so the next time someone tried to pluck her up they were stabbed by her thorns

She continues to grow stronger to this day

No one will ever hurt her again...