White as snow,
The beautiful rose.
So fragile its petal,
Hiding the thorns.
The thorns that it hates,
For it ruins its beauty.
It ruins its purity.
Among the red roses
She belongs not.
She feels there so lost,
Not the color of the heart.
No longer as beautiful as she felt,
She begins to wilt and weep.
Weep blood drawn by the red rose,
The red roses that expected her,
The one who was different, to conform.
To do as they asked without a question,
And harm along with them,
For their indifference to the red liquid,
Was a result of their stainless petals.
The snowy sheets she's made of now stained,
Perhaps she'll fit in now.
She'll stay hidden among them,
Keeping her innocence to herself,
No longer able to see her own beauty.
No she has not given up,
But she hides away,
Trying to build the strength to bloom,
And show the world who she is,
The snow white rose,
In the sea of blood red thorns.