Welcome to Gaia! ::

Well, I decided to just post it for fun. It's a poem I wrote for my brother.


I once believed that every rose had its thorns.
As a budding rosebush,
you seemed too painful for the reward.
Who is to say what could bloom?
Roses red as shed blood,
white, pure as fallen tears,
as black as anger and bitterness?
Maybe you are a mystery, like the blue rose,
blue for the lesson you have taught me.
Now I say to you, as it should be said,
Every thorn has its rose, and if you endure your troubles,
The beautiful rose inside is sure to bloom.