The Rose

You never judge a rose
only by its thorn
For the flower knows
How it can be torn

The rose wants to be touched.
But no one can feel
for every time its clutched
The pain is real.

If only we could know
If only we could see
how the rose would grow
whats its mystery

There it sits all alone
beyond the dusty places
In that spot is were it would grow
examining everyones faces

Who's a foe
who's a friend
tell me rose
i think you'd know

The rose knows the mystery
beyond life's extraordinary ways
Familiar with life's history
Alone were it lays