Roses symbolise her appearance, but deep beneath her façade lies a poisonous pest.
Society.
This whole poem is basically an extended metaphor. Just as the pests of the rose feed on it's roots so too does society compromise the woman by poisoning her soul.
Always involved, but never accepted Always polite, but never acknowledged Always being real, but everyone's fake Always trying to be pure, but no one cares Constantly going with the flow, but the flow never with me.
She loves me. She loves me not. Does she really love me? She loves me not. Is this meant to be? She loves me not. Is this what we could be? She loves me not. Time isn't for free, Wasted all my time just to be Nothing to me.