by Brittany Rose

Created on: October 06, 2008

Mother, If you were a flower

You'd be a wildflower,

Swaying in the wind

Standing tall with all your power.

You'd be sprouting out

On a beaten path,

Getting trampled on

But still standing tall with all your wrath.

And I am your flower,

A dark red rose.

Stem full of thorns,

Secrets which no one knows.

But you know them all,

Because you can see right through me.

You know what I am,

You know what I want to be.

I'm sorry my thorns prick you,

And I'm sorry my petals don't stay put.

They fall to the ground,

And they land at your foot.

And that's all I am;

A pile of fallen rose petals on the floor.

Underneath this wildflower,

Which I do so love and adore.

And all that is left of me,

Is this thorny stem that pricks you.

You try to hold me,

But cause you pain is all I do.

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