Lie

Fascinated, those countless thorns she acknowledges,
Each tip is pointy, each one sharp as the piercing sunshine,
Each carved the face of unrelenting words of ‘wisdom’ on her skin,
She could not see, they called her blind,
She could hear, but not listen,
She could speak, but not tell.

Disguising beneath the wise velvet petals they harmlessly,
Bore out fresh platelets of blood off her colourless skin,
And watched her squeeze it out, and set it free.
Watched her set a part of her life... free

They seemed nothing, too minuscule to acknowledge,
Infusing with the water that dropped from her eyes,
It diluted and yet became more morose,
She wiped off the exhausted platelets and her eyes.

The hungry petals absorbed her lustrous blood,
And stared at her face in a beautiful disguise,
She smelled the rose and thanked her God,
For those beautiful roses by her side.