My life is a rose,
Just a beautiful pose,
As everyday Im expected,
To never let sadness or hurt be reflected.
To stand here and smile a-new
Just be happy a while, says you.
And so, ill grab my mask
Surrender myself to this task.
I’ll sit here and appear,
As a rose.
My soul is a rose,
It always will be I suppose,
Because you never seem to see,
What is truly inside of me.
Life is not just happiness; there must be time to mourn,
And so you see, my rose does truly have its thorns.
People hurt and people cry.
People bleed and some do die.
There is glad, but also sad.
The world is beauty, the world is bad.
And so I do,
Bequeath to you,
From my thorns to my beauty,
That I am surly,
Just a rose.