We are the used.
We are the broken.
We are the fallen.
We are the imperfect petals of a rose,
nestling against one another whilst the
thorns draw blood from the pure.
And there we wait,
attracting the creatures we want attention from,
just to have them prickled by the thorns below us.
And as time goes by we fall one by one,
The ones left remaining hang on with what little hopes and dreams they have,
praying for the day their beloved creatures will look past
the thorns around them and pick them for the beauty they hold,
regardless of the blemishes they bare.
 VaGiNaL FaRiE · Thu Jul 30, 2009 @ 06:44pm · 1 Comments |
