A beautiful rose can have strong roots,
Firmly placed in the ground,
And against all animosity,
It tries not to be pushed around.

A fragile rose bears soft petals,
Very delicate to the touch.
They may be attached to the strongest root,
But alone, they cannot handle much.

A wind or storm may come by,
And knock the flower down.
But without the support from others,
It will not get off the ground.

Once the stem is broken,
Its spirits gone as well.
The flowers will to get back up,
Has been utterly kissed farewell.

All the others try to help,
But never do succeed.
They stop when they get pricked themselves,
And forget the roses needs.

As the time dragged on,
The rose turned red,
Slowly, Slowly
So no one knew it bled.

The rose then shriveled,
In itself enclosed.
And all that was left,
Was a wilting rose.