I will always be the wilting rose,
growing more thorns than I have stem.
One day I will grow so fucking thick
you won't be able to pluck me from the ground without shards of me in your fingertips.
And I will be untouchable to the whole entire world,
and nothing will matter anymore.
Because I was the rose that grew too many thorns.
Who built walls around myself so painful to the touch that no one could even dare try.
Who made fingers spill blood at the mention of me;
the story of my existence so hauntingly beautiful, I started having to wear a warning sign:
look but don't touch.
I don't regret it.
-s
