For every rose given
There is a rose left behind
Maybe
It was less then the others
Or
Time had just gone by
.
.
.
No matter what has happen
A rose is still a rose
No matter what it looks like
And to me every rose has its purpose
.
.
.
.
I like roses
Just as much as the next person
But what is a rose
If its like all the other roses
To me
If looks are perfect
Then what is the message your sending
That you want things to be perfect
Want me to be perfect
.
.
.
Which is why I linger
On the picture
Of a rose
That was left behind
Still growing
Till
Eventually
It died
And still
It was left behind
.
.
.
.
For what reason
Are things left behind
That to me
Mean so much more
I see beauty
In all things
Old or new
Living or dead
Because it has lost its color
Does not make it
Any less of a rose then any other
And if your gona give roses
To show love
Then it shouldn’t matter
The color
The quantity
The quality
Or the condition
A rose is a rose
.
.
.
.
I guess what im trying to say is
If you only see a rose for being a flower
Then you miss out
On what a rose really is
Roses are ever lasting
They never need die
Or fade away
As long as you know
Why your being the rose
The condition in which you receive it
.
.
.
.
Shouldn’t matter
So please
If your gona give me a rose
Buy it and then wait three weeks before giving it to me
.
.
.
.
Cause I don’t want to be distracted by it
When I look into your eyes
When you give it to me
.
.
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…………….