A once beautiful rose

Joyous in the wind.

Not a thorn in sight.

Blooming in distance

People started to be interested

Touching the rose.

Tainting it.

Over the years it grows thorns.

It’s tired of getting touched.

It’s withered but in a last ditch effort

It’s surrounded itself in thorns.

To reclaim its beauty once more.

-poetry by DC

This writing captivates my work. The essence being my muse Rose and individual who has been devoured by the pains of life. Consumed by the inspiration and beauty of this pain.