Striving Rose

A single rose,
Twists in the wind.
Afraid of theworld,
So she won't let it in.

Afraid of blood,
And scared of tears.
Vunurable wrists,
Lay in her fears.

She's beatiful,
But she won't believe.
All she sees is the thorns.
And she lets be decieved.

One bumblebee,
On her petals so kind.
But shy and afraid,
As she falls far behind.

She would let herself,
Be picked or plucked.
Without a fight,
She'd blame poor luck.

She's so much more,
Than what she thinks.
But without confidence,
In the ground she sinks.

I'm the red poppy,
Growing beside her.
I understand.
I see inside her.

But she tries to perfect,
What is already so.
And she brings herself down,
And decreases the grow.

So when shall she see,
That this quaint little flower,
Is someone so perfect,
Filled with self-power?

She has grown into fears,
And won't let herself see,
How she can be perfect,
To all, even me.