The crisp air pressed to the breast of that dewy morn',
A piercing of the skin by the rosiest of thorns.
Thorn to skin, blood to air,
A soft ebbing of life from its lair.

Venous roads and capillarous tunnels,
A captured path in which life is shuttled.
That ****** thorn that interrupts its flow,
Allows life to meet that soft morning's glow.

Thorns cut so deep
they broke through the barrier
of my hard whipped flesh.

  They were coarse,
they were harsh,
and barbed with
the ambiance of
torment.

They pricked at my skin,
ushering up trickles
of crimson.

   The small droplets and lines
  of such a vibrant color
coated my skin in the
philosophy of neglect and
malnutrition of empathy.

Thorns wrapped themselves
around my body, encompassing
them in a way that showed
no
mercy.

I was the result of such an action,
I was cut and bleeding,
and yet I remained standing,
for the pain and torment of the
lingering thorns and their
barbed prefaces became
a part of me.

A wilting rose is slowly regaining it's strength after years with out sun or rain...

And finally it's leaves reveal their greenness of hope. It's Mistress beauty remains

For once it speaks out from it's slowly blooming petal's within. Weak and soft, sick of being haunted

I can't see myself to be something that is beautiful or worth loving or wanted...

A small grain of grass speaks into it's almost lifeless soul, waving in the wind to catch the beauty's attention.

Why can't you? Look at me! I am simply green! With thousands of others who share the same attraction!

And here you are! The jewel that stands out alone! An easy target for the eye!

And what is it I hear? A selfish complain? Your Midnight core wakes up the dead inside!

Madam of Dark Matter! Your shades of shadows break out the harmony of dreams!

You inform the creatures of this world the realness of death and how it's not what it's seems

You contain an elegance that many have labeled as wrong. You have qualities that are beautiful and rare

Should you put to shame the gift the Lord has placed in you individually?  Stop being so scared!

The thorns of her small thick body grew in a hurtful rush, tears from  yesterdays rain returning

What if my thorns of protection become a burden, What if I were to become a bush, would they stress out because my arms are reaching?

The single small piece of grass dangle with the rest of it's family in the wind, it's eyes locked on beauty in distress

Look out into the distance and you will see a family of me. There are billions of us, we were created to bless!

Though there are so many, we are never a burden, for we are the carpet of nature's foot steps.

We guide new members of the ground and dirt, We build them up to lift them from the depths.

Be in praise you have thorns! For too many are foolish not to protect them selves from danger

Stand your ground and deepen your roots. Do now allow your blossom to desire to go back into the dirt as a stranger

Everything has a purpose... everything has a time... everything has worth when it is used for the creator of our universe... Follow his words! You won't be lead astray!

These words of hope can save and change and dire helpless bud. Sadly too many of natures treasure have too quickly withered away...

The Black Rose did Blossom and bloom and reached it's leave out to the heaven's. Through it's growth it produce more life.

It became protection to those who were too weak, It became a symbol of true love, and became the proof that faith is a guide

Not all stories end so happily and glorious... that's why WE must spread out the message of hope like plants spread their seeds!

Before... like the strand of grass, we surrender to the ground... for everything has it's time to fade... Death is a need

The closeness of loyalty will stick by you, like the roots of a rose, it will be with you until your final days, and last breath

Good Bye... My sweet dew grass friend... The God of Creation has used you and you have completed your task... please... welcome your death!

You will finally gain your reward... For you have been used to pull me out of my darkest stage in life... and I thank our Creator for his provision!

But now that your gone... I too shall be used to awaken others from their dream, and bring them out from their stage... of depression...and fear...and *SIN

The girl who tied
     Roses around her
     Tongue in hopes
To taste no evil
Bled to death
    With thorns
          In her teeth.

Rose indeed have thorns
But it's a risk I'm willing to take

If I wish to have that rose,
I must accept that it comes with thorns

And I think it's what makes it beautiful