I am a rose
in a field of flowers.
Not one rose is the same
and yet, we all have thorns.
Thorns that pierce the darkest corner of our spirit
until we dream of their release.
Yet, without these markings, who would we be?
Are we not, then, unreal clones who do not know true beauty?
No, true beauty comes from knowing that we are one of a kind,
yet connected by perceived imperfections.
Those who are fixated on our thorns do not appreciate who we are.
For without them, we would not be true.
We would not be whole.
We would not be a gorgeous, unique, rose.