Simple Rose

Don’t call me a girl.

For I have not been a girl

In a very long time,

And I am not a lady either,

Having not the reserve,

Nor the social grace.

Neither do I want to be a woman,

For I am not the other half of a man.

I am a simple rose,

And maybe I am bitter,

With thorns that rip and tear,

Please remember,

They only serve to protect me.

But I will not wither in that ice,

Instead, I will burn it away,

And be free,

And do the thing

That frightens you the most;

Use my voice.

 

 

 

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