Troubled Youth [Poem Collection]

Red Prim Roses

Red prim roses with prickly thorns
Their beauty lies within the petals
Shaped like a love heart
Delicate little things they are.
Fragile.
One touch and it'll break.
Torn.
Into a million, tiny 'lil pieces.

Like a prim rose he shined bright.
He bloomed in the spring.
He played in the summer.
Shivered during autumn.
And hid during winter.
But he always shined.
Bright.
Brighter.
Ready to bloom come next spring.

I was the thorns.
Those sharp pointy needles.
In reality they didn't do much.
But it kept the pests away.
Small flies.
Tiny ants.
Sometimes cats n dogs.
If it were lucky.
It kept them all away.
I kept them away.

But sometimes.
The thorns hid the beauty of the rose.
People were scared to come near.
Fear.
Of being pricked by the prim rose's guardian.
For that the rose colour dimmed.
Its beauty.
Its shined.
They dimmed.

Overprotective.
Overbearing.
But the thorns wanted the best.
But the flower wanted freedom.
To bloom for others.
To show it's true colour.
Colours.
Rainbow.
But it remained red.
Blood red.
A dark red.

Red prim roses
Grey prickly thorns
Roots without anchor
And a stem with no support