
To be beautiful is to be a rose.
On the outside seemingly perfect,
But actually covered in thorns.
Beautifully covered in dew drops,
Hilighting the rose's best fetures.
The bold reds,
Soft pinks,
and simple whites,
beauty comes in so many colors.
To be a rose,
To allways be liked,
To have photogrophers taking my picture.
To be associated with love.
What a joy,
To be a rose.
But a rose is covered in thorns,
you know,
And beauty comes with a price.
The bar will allways be raised,
Never let down.
And there will allways be ways
to be better.
You know,
mabe it's not the best,
simply to be a rose.
