A Rose, It's Not Really There

Smell a rose that's not really there
Smell the rain in her long brown hair
A stutter of pain ejects from her lungs
A thorn from the rose has entered her thumb
A dark raincloud threatens to spill
Above her house on the lopsided hill
A man in all black passes her by
Watching her closely, he takes off his tie
Offers the tie, so she feels better from pain
But pain will not cease even with a sugar cane
She pulls up her sleeves and shows him her wrists
All along her arm are scars and slits
For long, she's been suffering from a deeper wound
Feeling like she's trapped inside a cocoon
And for once, with this man, she feels all right
The man showed her his wrists and says not to give up the fight